PLAYS 

BY 

JACINTO   BENAVENTE 


PLAYS  BY 
JACINTO    BENAVENTE 

PLAYS,  FIRST  SERIES: 
His  Widow's  Husband,  La  Malquerida.  The 
Evil  Doers  of  Good,  The  Bonds  of  Interest 

PLAYS,  SECOND  SERIES: 
ISTo    Smoking,    Princess    Bebé,    Autumnal 
Roses,  The  Governor's  Wife 

Each  12mo.    $2.00  net 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


•  PLAYS 

BY 

JACINTO    BENAVENTE 


SECOND  SERIES 


TRANSLATED    FROM    THE    SPANISH 
WITH    AN    INTRODUCTION 

BY 

JOHN  GARRETT  UNDERBILL 

B£PB£S£NTATIVE    OF   THE    SOCIEDAD    DE    AUTORES    ESPAÑOLES    IN    THE   UNITED 
STATES    AND    CANADA 


AUTHORIZED  EDITION 


J  1  >      »    1! 


NEW  YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 

1919 


7*? 


JUL 


COPTKIOHT,   1918,   1919,  BT 

JOHN  GARRETT  UNDERHILL» 


PubUshed  October,  1919 


•/c3  C>  ^J  / 


f  CONTENTS 

I  PAGE 

Benaventiana vii 

No  Smoking 1 

Princess  Bebé 13 

Í           The  Governor's  Wife 121 

Autumnal  Roses 219 


4208 


r 


BENAVENTIANA 

A  writer  so  subtle  and  various  as  Bena vente  must  of  neces- 
sity have  conducted  experiments  in  technique.  Talent  of 
the  first  rank  moulds  its  own  instruments  of  expression,  or 
adapts  Ihose  which  exist  to  new  purposes.  It  will  be  inter- 
esting to  consider  this  aspect  of  the  Benaventian  theatre  in 
the  light  of  its  history,  and  to  anticipate,  perhaps,  the  con- 
clusions of  the  reader. 

When  Spanish  criticism  appraised  the  yojiihiul  Benavente         j 
as  pre-eminently  a  satirist,  it  was  unquestionably  correct  in   »^ '  j 
its  jucigment.    Although  much  of  his  early  work  had  been        | 
serious,  and  the  complexion  of  his  thought  as  well  as  his 
attitude  toward  life  had  become  apparent  by  1893.  wit  and 
huTpor  in  their  different  forms  were  the  qualities  most  char- 
acteristic of  his  genius;  they  were  most  personal  to  it,  most 
original,  and  most  conspicuous.     His  wit  was  incisive  and 
penetrating,  free  from  bias  in  any  special  connection,  ex- 
hibiting remarkable  power  of  detachment,  but  unmistakably,       j 
also,  it  was  illuminative  of  character,  with  the  passage  of 
time  growing  more  many-sided  and  tolerant. 

The  literatures  of  the  Latin  peoples  have  habitually  been 
hospitable  to  secondary  meanings,  double  ententes,  which  in 
certain  languages,  such  as  the  Italian,  have  been  erected  into 
definite  codes  of  communication.  The  idea  is  unmasked  by 
veiling  it.  In  its  cruder  phases,  the  by-play  is  one  of  vulgar 
jest,  but  in  skilful  hands,  like  those  of  Braceo  in  his  //  frutto 
acerbo,  it  arrives  at  the  dignity  of  a  continual  traflSc  in  for- 
bidden subjects,  which  imparts  to  the  entire  work  a  per- 
petual grimace  of  sex.  It  was  apparent  to  Benavente  that 
here  was  a  medium  which  was  susceptible  of  wholly  different 
application.  More  than  the  sexual  motive  falls  under  thej^^ 
social  ban.  The  mind  is  alive  with  reticences  and  reserva- J/ 
tions  far  more  interesting  than  any  ideas  which  it  may  seel 
fit  to  express.  Benavente  develops  this  system  of  doublei 
ententes,  previously  confined  to  traffic  m  contraband  wareSjá 
into  a  system  of  multiple  ententes,  in  which  he  attempts  to 


r 


viii  BENAVENTIANA 

realize  upon  the  stage  the  inarticulate  as  well  as  the  articu- 
I   late  elements  of  intellect  and  of  character. 

For  all  its  seeming  simplicity,  his  style  is  one  of  the  most 

I      complex  and  highly  personal  in  literature.     Primarily,  it~rs* 

I      suggestive.     With  the  thought,  he  contri  vpsf  to  pnnvpy  fhf^ , 

implication.     The. direct  meaning  is  not  of  chief  concern, 

but  its  connotations  in  the  mind  which  harbors  it.     It  is  a 

y'i  style  built  upon  contrast,  seizing  upon  the  inconsistencies  in 

^. which  huaaaa  natmfcis  .ffioaLiaJLimaklyj-e.Yea]ed-    Given  one 

point,  the  spectator  is  led  to  infer  another,  so  that,  without 

visible  means,  or  the  appearance  of  doing  so,  the  playwright 

turns  his  characters  inside  out,  till  we  view  them  with  him 

from  all  sides  at  once,  while  at  the  same  time  we  see  through 

them.    He  shows  us  not  only  what  his  peoplg_lhink,.^iit 

how  they  feel  ^l^pn  thpy  tliink  ifj  tReir  doubts  and  f^.í^í^oTn- 

pany ing  reservations  .f  His  theatre  has  been  called  a  Jtheatre 
of  ideas,  and  it  is  a  theatre  of  ideas  in  so  far  as  ideaa^are  an 
expression  of  intense  inteUectual  q^gtivity.  B  uX'^Bena vente 
is  not  concerned  with  ideas,  he  is  concerned  wiih-thought-as- 
it  formulates  itseli— with  ideas  in  the  making^  Thus  his 
comedy  stimulates  the  mind  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  in 
which  it  is  possible  for  him  to  communicate  to  an  audience 
what  under  more  usual  circumstances  it  would  fail  to  per- 

!i  ceive.  This  is  what  he  means  when  he  says  that  he  does 
I  not  make  his  plays  for  the  public,  but  the  public  for  his 
plays.  He  creates  th€LJii£iital„attitude  which  is  necessary 
for  their  appreciation,  and,  by  a  subtle  psychologic  or  char- 
acter dialectic,  through  which  personality  is  revealed  by 
sharp  reversals  and  successive  mental  jolts,  disclosing  the 
innermost  workings  of  the  soul  and  its  springs  of  action,  he 
induces  the  auditor  to  become  for  an  evening  a  collaborator 
himself,  reading  between  the  lines.  His  style  may  best  be 
compared  to  a  rational  cubist  art,  in  which  the  elements  are 
all  valid  and  intelligible  in  themselves,  but  which  surrender 
their  true  significance  only  when  taken  in  juxtaposition. 

With  Benavente,  the  story  is  never  of  predominant  im- 
portance, nor  in  the  beginningwas  his  treatment  of  It^un- 
usual,  or  markedly  individual.  His  plots  unfolded  symmet- 
rically and  were  suflScient  to  sustain  the  interest  through 
the  customary  sequence  of  situations  and  climaxes.  Yet  as 
his  dialogue  matured  in  fertility  of  suggestion,  obviously  a 


\^ 


BENAVENTIANA  ix 


purely  objective  plot,  a  chain  of  circumstance  and  outward 
fact,  witH  laws  of  its  own,  became  an  unsuitable  vehicle  for 
its  transmission.  The  tendency  of  Benavente's  art  is  away 
from  the  plastic  toward  the  insubstantial.  JJie  transparent. 
A  fresh  adjustment  became  imperative.  What  he  had  ac- 
complished with  satire  he  next  essays  with  plot,  turning  his 
attention  to  its  secondary  and  suggestive  values,  transfer- 
ring the  emphasis  from  the  events  to  the  inferences  which 
wait  upon  them,  and  the  atmosphere  which  they  create, 
either  directly  or  through  collocation.  In  the  field  of  expo- 
sition, the  method  may  be  observed  in  the  first  act  of  "The 
Governor's  Wife."  A  similar  extension  of  plot  had  been 
attempted  by  the  symbolists,  through  the  imposition  of 
parallel  meanings  upon  the  action.  With  Benavente,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  events  induce  their  own  meaning,  while,  in 
order  to  permit  them  to  do  this,  he  deprives  the  story  of 
definite  form.  In  the  polychromatic  spectacles,  *' Saturday 
Night"  and  **The  Fire  Dragon,"  belonging  to  the  years  ^ 
1903  and  1904,  vast,  crowded  canvases  which  might  have 
been  painted  by  Tintoretto  or  by  Rubens,  teeming  with  an 
abundance  too  multifarious  to  be  imprisoned  within  the 
limits  of  the  stage,  the  drama  is  removed  from  the  domain 
of  structural  regularity,  until  it  depends  for  its  effect  upon 
the  imj)ressipns  derived  from  a  panorama  of  incident  and  of 
situation  in  which  the  story  is  swallowed  up  and  upon  occa-^ 
sion  lost  from  view.  These  dramas  may  be  considered  the 
romantic  outburst,  the  ungovernable  adventure  of  the  Bena- 
ventian  theatre,  by  very  lack  of  restraint  stimulating  the 
imagination  to  a  perception,  at  once  restless  and  inchoate, 
of  the  awe  and  majesty  of  life. 

Variety  so  kaleidoscopic  precludes,  of  course,  unity  of  im- 
pression. At  best,  fact  is  inexpressive,  and  Benavente  seems 
to  have  felt  that,  independently  developed,  whatever  its 
transcendence,  it  was  susceptible  only  of  the  broadest  effects. 
Besides,  instead  of  reinforcing  his  character  satire,  the  sweep 
and  apparatus  of  these  great  spectacles  dissipated  and  be- 
wildered it.  He  does  not  return  to  the  manner  again.  In-  « 
stead,  he  subordinates  the  story;  it  ceases  to  be  the  prime 
factor  in  the  dramatic  fabric,  or,  in  any  proper  sense  of  the 
word,  the  action.  Henceforward  the  story  becomes  sub- 
servlcint  wholly  to  the  main  action,  which  thus  is  unrfied,  and' 


X  BENAVENTIANA 

this  action  is  entirely  psychological  and  subjective.  In  life 
as  upon  the  stage,  says  Princess  Bebé,  the  real  entertainment 
goes  on  behind  the  scenes.  "The  Bonds  of  Interest"  pro- 
vides a  typical  example  of  this  new  dramaturgy.  Rather 
than  the  outward  history  of  the  characters,  the  story  becomes 
the  window  through  which  they  may  be  seen,  as  they  react 
upon  each  other,  and  so  interpret  themselves.  The  old  values 
are  present,  but  they  are  changed.  The  danger  which  besets 
the  reader  of  Bena vente  is  not  that  he  will  fail  to  appreciate 
him,  but  that  he  will  fail  to  appreciate  him  at  his  proper 
worth.  His  dr^m^^  i,s  5^,  Hrama  of  ^hflrartpr.  not  because  it  is 
occupied  with  character,  but  because  it  takes  place  within 
it,  and  the  conflict  is  joined  in  the  play  and  interplay  of 
thought  and  emotion,  of  volition  and  inhibition,  of  impulse 
and  desire,  as  they  are  colored  and  predetermined  by  tradi- 
tion, by  heredity,  by  convention,  by  education,  and  all  the 
confused  network  of  motive  and  prejudice  of  which  conscious 
assertion  of  personality  is  but  a  part.  This  is  the  struggle  of 
modern  life,  which  takes  place  in  the  individual  conscious- 
ness, as  it  accommodates  itself  to  the  complex  of  society  and 
of  fixed  environment,  the  denouement  of  which  is  already 
foreshadowed  in  the  mind  before  it  is  projected,  imperfectly 
and  fragmentarily,  into  the  region  of  deeds  and  of  fact. 

Drama  so  subtle  that  it  hovers  continually  among  the 
shadows  of  the  subliminal  self,  might  appear  to  be  far  di- 
vorced from  the  stage.  Yet,  in  reality,  Benavente  is  one  of 
the  most  theatric  of  writers.  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
he  was  an  actor,  and  that  as  an  actor  he  began  at  the  bottom. 
The  tricks  of  the  pantomimist,  the  directness  of  the  low 
comedian  and  the  clown,  lie  at  the  foundation  of  his  dramatic 
training.  The  clown's  art  is  very  simple;  it  is  dependent 
upon  the  immediateness  of  the  audience's  response.  In  the 
popular  theatres  and  beside  the  circus  ring,  BenSVente 
learned  that  any  effect  may  be  achieved  in  the  theatre  which 
is  capable  of  immediate  perception — it  makes  no  matter  how 
subtle,  how  elusive  the  idea,  so  long  as  it  is  perceived.  All  of 
his  effects,  if  they  are  perceived  at  all,  are  perceived  easily. 
*'The  most  agreeable,  as  well  as  the  most  artistic,  expression 
of  force  is  lightness."  He  has  been  enabled  to  ignore  the 
common  precepts  of  craftsmanship  because  of  his  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  small  change,  the  minor  symbols  of  the 


BENAVENTIANA  xi 

actor's  calling,  which  have  made  possible  to  him  endless 
vistas  of  variety  and  of  picturesque  suggestion.  The  task  of 
the  actor  in  the  Benaventian  theatre  is  to  place  his  finger 
upon  these  minor  effects,  to  catch  the  thought  in  the  embryo, 
not  so  much  to  convey  it  as  to  hint  its  direction,  to  reflect^ 
the  sudden  flash,  to  pursue  personality  into  its  hiding-places, 
at  the  same  time  engaging  the  spectator  and  luring  him 
along,  until,  passing  over  every  facet  of  his  subject,  always 
moving,  never  still,  he  integrates  at  last  this  drama  of  the 
spirit  with  the  actualities  of  th^  outward  life. 

"No  Smoking,"  the  first  comedy  included  in  this  Second 
Series,  is  a  study  in  obvious  types  and  in  vulgar  mentality. 
The^anecdote  upon  which  it  turns  has  long  been  familiar  in 
¿panisK,  having  been  employed  in  various  forms  by  other 
writers,  among  them  by  Palacio  Valdés,  but  it  is  distinguished 
here  by  the  singular  vigor  and  force  of  the  characterization, 
which  is  almost  fleshly  in  the  sense  of  bodily  presence  con- 
veyed. The  piece  was  contributed  to  the  Teatro  Lara, 
Madrid,  in  1904,  upon  the  occasion  of  the  benefit  of  the 
comedienne  Leocadia  Alba. 

"The  Governor's  Wife,"  acted  at  the  Teatro  de  la  Comedia 
in  the  same  city  three  years  previously,  is  a  mordant  satire, 
associated  with  the  name  of  the  actress,  Rosario  Pino,  who 
created  the  role  of  Josefina.  The  political  life  of  the  prov- 
inces, compact  of  unsavory  intrigue,  and  dominated  by  the 
perpetual  pressure  of  the  strong  arm  of  caciquismo,  or  the 
boss  system,  will  be  found  to  be  mirrored  exactly  both  in 
incident  and  in  atmosphere.  The  satire,  however,  never 
becomes  utilitarian,  nor  does  it  concern  itself  with  what  is 
called  in  the  literary  phrase  "the  castigation  of  follies  and 
vices."  Rather  than  satiric,  the  play  is  profoundly  ironic, 
descending  quickly  from  the  sphere  of  institutions  and  of 
I)olitics  to  that  of  the  personalities  which  underlie  and  ex- 
plain them.  Nowhere  else  has  the  author  shown  a  keener 
eye  for  the  niceties  of  human  imperfection,  or  been  so  scep- 
tical of  the  grip  of  virtue  upon  the  line  of  salvation. 

Upon  the  technical  side,  the  comedy  is  interesting  as  an 
example  of  objective  realism.  It  is  a  fabric  of  infinite  detail, 
of  detail  heaped  upon  detail.  In  the  first  act,  in  particular, 
the  incidents  are  approximately  all  of  equal  value,  nor  have 


xii  BENAVENTIANA 

they  any  conspicuous  emotional  quality  which  imparts  to 
them  coherence,  or  lends  them  unity.  The  detail  has  been 
related,  composed,  if  one  will,  with  exceptional  adroitness; 
nevertheless,  the  effect  arises  chiefly  from  the  absolute  verac- 
ity and  minute  photographic  property  of  the  incidents  them- 
selves, by  cumulation,  as  they  follow  each  other  in  the 
bustling  sequence  of  a  provincial  holiday.  The  material  in- 
sinuates its  significance  without  interference  or  interpreta- 
tion upon  the  part  of  the  playwright.  The  living  scene  ap- 
pears before  the  spectator,  and  he  comes  to  participate  in  it 
in  so  many  ways  that  he  is  taken  off  his  guard,  until  he  ac- 
quires at  last  a  sort  of  citizenship  in  the  town  of  Moraleda — 
that  abode  of  conventional  morality — whose  people  he  seems 
to  know  casually,  as  upon  the  street,  or  at  the  café,  some 
fairly  well,  perhaps,  even  thoroughly,  while  there  are  others 
whom  he  scarcely  remembers  at  all.  By  far  the  most  nega- 
tive and  corrosive  of  his  works,  "The  Governor's  Wife,"  con- 
firmed the^  misapprehension  of  Benavente  at  one  time  preva- 
lent, as  a  purely  destructive,  maliciously  clever  writer. 

*' Princess  Bebé"  and  "Autumnal  Roses,"  which  complete 
the  volume,  on  the  other  hand  are  serious  dramas,  nf  positi\-f> 
content.  The  former,  published  in  1905,  but  withheld  from 
the  stage  until  1909,  is  a  work  composed  by  the  author 
peculiarly  to  please  himself.  "Sometimes  I  say  what  I 
think,  sometimes  I  have  regard  for  the  opinion  of  others." 
Certain  resemblances  between  events  in  the  play  and  others 
not  yet  forgotten  at  the  Spanish  Court  tempered  in  some 
degree  the  warmth  of  its  reception  when  acted  by  Maria 
Guerrero  and  Fernando  Diaz  de  Mendoza  during  their 
tenancy  of  the  Teatro  Español,  although  this,  indéedpwas 
not  surprising  when  it  is  considered  that  the  initial  perform- 
ances took  place  at  what  was  then,  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, the  National  Court  Theatre.  "Princess  Bebé"  is  the 
embodiment  of  the  aspirations  and  ebullience  of  youth, 
boundless  in  energy,  yet  tormented  with  uncertainties  and 
misgivings,  the  natural  hesitations  of  the  mind  which  has 
not  yet  found  itself.  As  a  painter  of  manners,  Benavente 
may  here  be  found  at  his  best.  Few  plays  are  so  various  or 
contain  so  much,  few  disseminate  an  equal  atmosphere  of 
breeding  or  display  like  perception  of  the  futile,  exacerbated 
sentimentalities   of   the   prostitute,   the   criminal,   and    the 


BENAVENTIANA  xiii 

degenerate.  The  heroine  is  enmeshed  in  a  snare  of  artificial-" 
ities,  seeking  for  truth  amid  environments  that  are  most 
thoroughly  false,  from  the  pretentiousness  of  the  Court 
through  the  pretenses  of  the  theatre  and  the  mimicries  of 
the  demi-monde,  down  to  Bohemia  and  the  underworld, 
counterfeits  which  are  most  deceptive  of  all. 

Simple  while  it  is  most  complex,  brilliant  in  wit  yet  en- 
gagingly human,  exact  in  portraiture  yet  at  every  moment 
incomparably  suggestive,  "Princess  Bebé"  floats  before  the 
eyes  of  the  spectator  like  a  web  of  delusions  so  transparent 
that  they  become  luminous  as  truth.  If  the  basis  of  reality 
when  disclosed  seems  little  more  substantial  than  the  un- 
reality of  appearances,  it  must  be  remembered  in  mitigation 
that  the  hopes  of  youth  are  high.  In  the  words  of  Professor 
Federico  de  Onís,  "this  type  of  comprehensive  interpreta- 
tion, which  plumbs  the  eyil  in  humanity  later  to  affirm  the 
idealistic,  has  been  the  essence  of  what  is  called  Spanish 
realism;  it  is  the  aesthetic  conception  of  Velazquez  and  of 
Cervantes.  The  work  of  Benavente  Js  a  modern  form  of 
the  same  conception,  and  is,  therefore,  essentially  Spanish  in 
spirit."  It  is  strange  to  one  familiar  with  the  national  his- 
tory that  the  modern  Spanish  writers  who  have  attracted 
most  attention  abroad  should  have  been  those  of  the  florid 
tradition  of  Murillo  and  of  Calderón,  of  Echegaray,  and  of 
Blasco  Ibáñez,  rather  than  of  the  high  Castilian  stock. 

"Autumnal  Roses,"  presented  at  the  Teatro  Español  in 
1905,  is  a  comedy  of  Madrid  life.  Even  before  he  is  a 
Spaniard,  Benavente  is  a  Madrileño.  He  has  drawn  in  this 
play  a  veracious  picture  of  the  financial  circles  of  the  capital 
city,  of  the  manners  of  the  upper  middle  class,  which  is  | 
exceptional  in  its  simplicity.  No  drama  could  be  more  \ 
innocent  of  adventitious  appeal,  yet  during  the  decade  which 
followed  its  production,  "Autumnal  Roses"  has  assumed  by 
common  consent  a  foremost  place  in  the  contemporary, 
Spanish  theatre.  It  is  characteristic  of  Benavente's  plays 
that  they  grow  upon  the  mind;  not  only  by  repetition,  but 
through  the  subtlety  of  its  charm,  each  succeeding  play 
seems  to  cast  some  reflection  upon  and  to  illuminate  un- 
suspected recesses  in  those  which  have  preceded  it.  Prop- 
erly V  the  comedy  is  the  complement,  or,  in  a  sense,  the  sequel 
to  "Princess  Bebé,"  which  it  follows  almost  directly  in  order 


xiv  BENAVENTIANA 

of  composition.  One  is  a  drama  of  youth  and  the  other  of 
middle-age;  in  one  the  subject  is  the  venturing  forth  of  the 
spirit,  in  the  other  its  return  home  again,  when  the  disillu- 
sionments  of  the  wander-years  find  their  compensation  in 
the  family  and  beside  the  hearth.  It  is  an  error,  however, 
to  pronounce  "Autumnal  Roses"  to  be  a  glorification  of 
bourgeois  morality,  or  an  apology  for  marriage  when  lib- 
^  erally  "Construed;  to  read  the  comedy  in  such  a  light  is  to 
^-misconstrue  and  to  miss  its  meaning.  The  story  of  Isabel 
and  Gonzalo  is  laid  in  the  home,  because  it  is  in  the  home 
/'  that  the  revelation  of  character  is  most  intimate  and  most 
]/  personal,  and  there  it  is  that  the  pleasures  and  sorrows  of 
life  are  most  quickly  and  most  keenly  felt.  Yet  even  the 
home  has  its  conventions,  its  prescribed  manners  and  modes 
of  living,  in  which,  too,  according  to  Benavente,  the  heart 
does  not  reside — much  less  does  it  in  any  ideal  perfection. 
Life  matures  in  the  affections,  where  alone  its  fruits  are 
cherished,  in  those  attachments  in  which  the  yea  s  at  last 
yield  up  their  reward,  after  persistent  struggle  and  patient 
endurance,  after  trials  and  imperfections  and  misunder- 
standings, slowly  ripening  into  esteem,  and  the  respect  which 
is  of  long  growth,  made  but  the  gentler  by  much  forgiving, 
and  coming  to  all  of  us  in  due  season,  in  one  form  or  another, 
who  have  borne  ourselves  well  in  the  journey  through  life. 

The  theatre  of  Benavente  is  dynamic,  because  it  deals 
with  thought  in  the  process  of  crystallization.  Hence  the 
secret  of  its  power.  It  anticipates  appearances,  and  makes 
short  work  of  artificialities.  Although  all  classes  of  m.en  and 
women  are  reproduced  in  his  work,  there  are  no  types. 
Through  all  his  scenes,  one  will  search  in  vain  for  one  hero, 
and  one  will  search  in  vain  for  one  villain.  The  jmachinery 
of  life  plays  small  part  in  his  analyses,  which  delve  beneath 
occupation.  The  human  terms  of  problems  engage  him;  the 
postulates  which  inhere  in  their  solution,  the  working  out  of 
these  in  feeling  and  ways  of  thought,  and  in  acts  afterward 
of  human  and  irremediable  import.  He  is  free  from  nostrums 
and  pdSed  problems;  he  neither  courts  nor  wins  the  unimagi- 
natÍA?^^,.jy;ig  dull  mind,  nor  is  his  drama  more  portentous  than 
life,  but  from  page^o  page  and  scene  to  scene  it  lives  with  a 
strange,  vivifying  power,  which  infuses  even  the  slightest 


BENAVENTIANA  xv 

detail  with  the  significance  of  the  greatest,  and  makes  his 
work  in  its  totaUty  one  of  the  most  human  docjiments  that 
literature  has  known.  BenavenlsVistHe  most  sophisticated 
of  arts,  because  it  is  the  flower  of  an  old,  anciently  corrupt, 
disillusioned  civilization,  which  has  at  length  awakened  spiri- 
tually and  searched  itself,  taking  account  of  the  evil  with 
what  there  is  of  the  good,  and  set  itself  again  to  become 
strong. 


MAXIMS  BY  BENAVENTE  AND  OBSERVATIONS  UPON 
TEE-  STAGE 

The  public  demands  that  serious  things  be  treated  friv- 
olously, and  that  nonsense  be  taken  seriously.  What  it  will 
not  tolerate  is  serious  treatment  of  serious  things,  or  speaking 
flippantly  of  nonsense. 

Everything  that  is  of  importance  to  the  proper  under- 
standing of  a  play  must  be  repeated  at  least  three  times 
during  the  course  of  the  action.  The  first  time  half  of  the 
audience  will  understand  it;  the  second  time  the  other  half 
will  understand  it.  Only  at  the  third  repetition  may  we  be 
sure  that  everybody  understands  it,  except,  of  course,  deaf 
persons  and  some  critics. 

The  public  defies  comprehension.  No,  the  public  is 
merely  curious;  but  curiosity  passes,  while  respect  remains. 

He  who  thinks  every  day  cannot  think  the  same  thing 
every  day. 

To  paint  in  broad  strokes,  but  so  artfully  that  at  a  dis- 
tance it  appears  as  if  we  had  painted  in  miniature,  is  at  once 
the  problem  and  the  art  of  the  theatre. 

One-fourth  part  of  the  morality,  rectitude,  and  sense  of 
justice  which  an  audience  brings  into  the  theatre  would,  if 
left  outside,  make  the  world  over  into  paradise. 

Prince  Hamlet,  although  the  prototype  of  doubt,  like  all 
sceptics  had  faith  in  what  was  most  preposterous:  the 
probability  that  a  theatrical  performance  would  disclose 
anything. 

Art  is  a  furious  individualist. 


^ 


xvi  BENAVENTIANA 

All  of  us  are  shocked  once  a  year  by  what  goes  on  about 
us  for  the  rest  of  the  year  without  shocking  us,  or,  indeed, 
attracting  our  attention  at  all. 

Art  is  the  one  subject  upon  which  aristocracy  and  de- 
mocracy agree.  Both  invariably  vote  for  foolishness  and 
vulgarity. 

.It  is  not  easy  to  surprise  the  heart  while  the  intelligence 
^olds  out. 

With  very  notable  exceptions,  the  prepossession  of  good 
actors  for  bad  plays  is  as  general  as  it  is  deplorable. 

Many,  upon  going  to  the  theatre  and  seeing  a  detestable 
play,  think  mistakenly:  *'I  could  do  this  thing  better  my- 
self." The  fact  is  that  they  could  do  it  better,  only  their 
better  would  be  worse  for  the  dramatic  effect.  In  the  thea- 
tre, even  to  be  bad  requires  a  badness  all  its  own. 

No,  the  theatre,  like  all  other  forms  of  art,  is  many-sided, 
and  neither  can  nor  should  live  by  exclusion.  All  styles  are 
good,  even  the  dull,  if  there  is  any  adequate  reason  for 
its  being  so.  Only  dulness  for  its  own  sake  is  inadmissible; 
it  is  not  like  art  for  art's  sake.  Let  us  be  sincere  with  our- 
selves. When  we  read  "Don  Quixote"  or  "The  Divine 
Comedy,"  or  Shakespeare's  plays  for  the  first  time,  were  we 
not  upon  the  point  of  finding  them  a  little  tiresome.''  If 
we  had  permitted  ourselves  to  be  overcome  by  the  first  im- 
pression, and  had  ceased  to  read,  should  we  not  have  sacri- 
ficed the  most  profound  artistic  emotions  of  our  lives  ^ 

It  is  not  more  difficult  to  write  a  good  play  than  it  is  a 
good  sonnet,  only  one  must  know  how  to  write  it,  just  as 
one  must  a  sonnet.  This  is  the  principal  resemblance  be- 
tween the  theatre  and  other  forms  of  literature. 

The  theatre  must  be  loved  for  itself,  perhaps  with  greater 
devotion  than  any  other  form  of  art.  The  true  playwright 
must  have  passed  his  life  in  the  theatre,  he  must  have  seen 
all  the  plays  and  all  the  actors  within  his  reach,  and  he  must 
have  acted  himself.  Remember  that  no  small  part  of  Shake- 
speare and  Lope  de  Rueda  and  Moliere  was  the  actor.  To 
the  playwright  the  world  must  be  a  vast  stage,  men  and 


BENAVENTIANA 


xvu 


women  must  be  tragic  heroes  and  heroines,  or  comedians  in 
one  immense  farce.  The  most  beautiful  sights  of  nature 
must  appeal  to  his  eye  as  stage  scenery.  And  then,  too,  he 
must  have  the  knack  of  finding  his  plays. 

If  ideas  were  to  determine  what  we  wrote,  we  should 
always  write  the  same  thing,  and  what  we  wrote  would  for- 
ever be  the  same  flummery.  Art  must  be  spontaneous,  like 
the  play  of  children,  an  expression  of  life,  of  strength,  of 
natural  abundance.  Later,  art  will  take  on  order  and,  again 
like  the  play  of  children,  fall  into  a  certain  rhythm,  so  that 
what  was  at  first  mere  activity,  will  presently  become  beauty, 
and  at  last  will  be  found  good. 

The  impressions  of  the  artist  are  not  evanescent,  nor  do 
they  linger  in  the  memory  like  common  recollections  of 
pleasure  or  of  pain.  The  artist's  brain  is  ruminant  of  emo- 
tions, transforming  what  at  first  was  only  heat  into  heat 
and  light  combined.  Thus,  through  a  constant  effort  of  will, 
what  was  his  life  becomes  at  last  the  soul  of  his  art,  so  that 
every  artist  can  exclaim  with  Mme.  Dorval,  seeing  the  audi- 
ence rise  in  enthusiastic  applause:  "They  do  well  to  ap- 
plaud me,  for  I  have  given  them  my  life.'* 

The  spirit  of  the  truly  great  artist  differs  from  that  of 
the  mediocre  talent,  who  is  always  thoroughly  at  home  in 
his  works,  which  seem  to  belong  to  him,  where  he  is  com- 
fortable and  satisfied.  To  the  true  artist,  rather,  work  is 
the  prison  of  genius,  and  something  forever  hovers  over  it 
with  the  melancholy  yearning  of  an  infinite  longing,  seeking 
an  outlet  that  it  may  be  free.  The  best  of  his  genius  is  not 
what  is  expressed  in  his  works,  but  what  escapes  from  them. 


Benavente's  theory  of  translation  is  outlined  in  his  preface 
to  his  own  rendering  of  "King  Lear": 

"Modern  criticism  prefers  the  type  of  translation  which  is 
known  as  interlinear.  It  distrusts  translators,  and  with 
better  reason  it  distrusts  the  literary  translator.  Truth, 
however,  like  virtue,  is  always  to  be  found  upon  middle 
ground.  An  interlinear  translation  is  preferable  for  the  use 
of  those  who  are  already  familiar  with  the  language  of  the 
original  work,  or,  else,  who  are  engaged  in  the  study  of  it. 


xviii  BENAVENTIANA 

To  others,  however,  it  must  always  prove  difficult,  and  dis- 
agreeable as  well. 

"A  perfect  translation  would  be  one  which  succeeded 
in  conveying  the  spirit  of  the  author  in  its  entirety  by  means 
of  the  words  which  he  himself  would  have  employed,  given 
his  temperament,  his  individual  style,  his  period,  and  even 
the  identical  circumstances  under  which  the  work  was  com- 
posed, had  his  medium  of  expression  been  the  language  into 
which  it  is  about  to  be  translated.  To  effect  such  an  ideal 
translation,  the  translator,  of  course,  must  be  none  other 
than  the  author  himself. 

**In  this  translation  of  mine  ...  I  have  sought  clarity 
before  everything  else.  .  .  .  After  clarity,  I  have  sought 
fidelity;  whenever  it  has  been  possible  for  me  to  be  a  faithful 
translator,  I  have  been  one.  Finally,  I  have  contrived  that 
my  translation  should  not  be  altogether  colorless  and  cold. 
Rather  than  to  correctness  of  language  or  to  elegance  of 
style,  I  have  attended  to  the  life  and  spontaneity  of  the 
dramatic  dialogue.  Shakespeare  was  not  only  a  playwright, 
but  he  was  what  we  call  to-day  a  man  of  the  theatre.  His 
sublimities  and  his  buffooneries,  his  great  qualities  as  well 
as  his  great  defects,  are  always  those  of  the  playwright  who 
is  deeply  versed  in  the  theatre,  and  who  is  familiar  with  his 
public.     He  was  not  an  actor  and  a  manager  for  nothing." 

These  principles  have  been  followed  in  the  translation  of 
these  plays. 


NO    SMOKING 

FARCE   IN   ONE   ACT 

First  Presented  at  the  Teatro  Lara,  Madrid,  on  the 
Evening  of  the  Third  of  March,  1904 


CHARACTERS 

A  Lady 

A  Young  Lady 
A  Gentleman 
A  Conductor 
Several  Voices 


NO    SMOKING 

A  compartment  in  a  first-class  railway-carriage. 
The  Gentleman  is  seated  alone  when  the  curtain  rises, 

A  Voice.  [OiUside]  Three  minutes!  The  train  stops 
three  minutes ! 

Another  Voice.  Water!  Fresh  water!  Who  wants 
water  ? 

Another  Voice.  Here,  girl !    Water ! 
The  Lady  and  the  Young  Lady  enter. 

Lady.  Hurry  up;  it  only  stops  a  minute.  I  thought  we'd 
die  in  that  compartment.  See  if  we  have  everything. 
One,  two.  .  .  .     Where's  the  basket  ?    The  basket ! 

Young  Lady.  Here  it  is,  mamma. 

Lady.  Gracious!  What  a  fright  you  did  give  me!  The 
one  thing,  too,  your  aunt  asked  us  to  bring  with  us —  She 
would  always  have  insisted  that  we  lost  it  on  purpose. — 
Good  afternoon. 

Gentleman.  Good  afternoon.  I  beg  your  pardon,  but 
as  I  was  riding  alone,  although  it  says  "No  Smoking'*. . . . 

Lady.  For  goodness'  sake,  don't  stop  upon  our  account! 
Smoke  as  much  as  you  want  to — it  doesn't  bother  me,  or 
my  daughter,  either.  We  are  used  to  it.  Her  poor  father, 
my  first  husband — who  is  now  in  glory — was  never  without 
a  cigar  in  his  mouth.  As  he  bit  off  one,  he  lit  it  with  the  butt 
of  the  other.  And  my  second  husband — who  now  rests  in 
peace — they  were  alike  as  two  buttons;  you  could  scarcely 
tell  the  difference.     I  had  a  difficulty  at  one  time  myself,  a 

3 


4  NO  SMOKING 

Súffóo'aíiiíig.feéliiig,  :air.st«jffed  up  here — terrible  distress — 
and  the  doctors  were  telling  me  that  it  was  asthma  and  that 
it  wasn't  asthma —  Well,  I  smoked  then  myself — aromatic 
cigarettes — v/hich  didn't  do  me  any  good,  either,  by  the  way, 
I  can  say  that.  So  you  see  as  far  as  we  are  concerned .... 
My  dear,  what  on  earth  are  you  doing  with  that  basket? 
Don't  you  see  that  you've  got  it  with  the  holes  against  the 
wall,  and  the  poor  animal  will  be  smothered  to  death  ?  It's 
a  cat,  yes,  sir,  an  aunt  of  my  daughter's — she  requested  us 
to  bring  it  with  us,  as  a  favor  to  her.  She  is  my  sister-in- 
law.  It  began  to  howl  the  moment  the  conductor  came 
after  the  tickets,  and  this  poor  child  had  to  sit  there  and 
sing  and  laugh  so  as  to  drown  it — so  the  conductor  couldn't 
tell  who  was  howling.     I  should  say  it  was  a  favor ! 

A  Voice.  [Outside]  All  aboard !  Passengers  who  are  go- 
ing will  please  take  the  train ! 

Lady.  Good !  They  are  afraid  we  might  be  left  behind. 
However,  we  are  off  now —  But  you  needn't  think  you  are 
inconveniencing  us.  You  can't  annoy  us  by  smoking.  Be- 
fore we  changed  we  were  travelling  in  the  ladies'  compart- 
ment, and  we  transferred  to  this  one  as  soon  as  we  could  be- 
cause there  were  people  in  it  one  simply  couldn't  travel 
with;  they  were  out  of  the  question.  You  would  think  that 
people  who  travelled  first  class  would  have  manners,  that 
they  would  know  something.  But  not  a  bit  of  it !  Believe 
me,  if  you  want  to  find  out  what  people  are  like,  play  cards 
with  them,  or  watch  them  eat,  or  else  go  travelling.  You'll 
find  out  then  soon  enough.  There  was  a  woman  in  that 
compartment — I  say  she  was  a  woman  because  I  don't 
know  what  else  to  call  her — with  her  companion — she  must 
have  been  her  companion,  she  was  with  her  anyway — well, 
I  can  tell  you  I  was  mortified.  I  was  ashamed — such  a  con- 
versation !    Between  the  two  of  them !    They  might  as  well 


NO  SMOKING  5 

have  been  sitting  in  their  own  parlors.  As  far  as  that  goes, 
you  know,  speaking  for  myself,  a  widow  twice,  it  was  noth- 
ing to  me;  but  before  my  daughter. ...  I  had  to  make  her 
sit  with  her  head  out  of  the  window  all  the  way.  It  was 
pretty  chilly  for  her.  You  can  see  for  yourself  she  has 
taken  cold.  And  she's  got  a  cinder  in  her  eye,  too — worse 
luck !    Her  eyes  are  the  best  part  of  her. 

Young  Lady.  For  mercy's  sake,  mamma !  .  What  will  this 
gentleman  think.'*    I  hope  you  don't  mind  mamma. 

Lady.  Keep  quiet,  for  heaven's  sake!  Such  women! 
And  they  didn't  stop  there.  One  of  them,  tired  of  gabbling, 
I  suppose,  takes  out  a  book  if  you  please,  and  settles  herself 
down  to  read.  And  what  a  book!  There  was  a  woman 
on  the  cover  in  her  chemise,  fanning  herself. 

Gentleman.  Evidently  hot 

Lady.  You  needn't  tell  me  it  was  hot. 

The  Gentleman,  with  a  detached  air,  reaches  for  a 
book  which  has  been  lying  on  the  seat  beside  him. 

Gentleman.  You  cannot  always  be  sure.  Sometimes  the 
publishers — so  as  to  attract  attention —  And  then  it  turns 
out  that  there  is  nothing  in  the  book,  after  all. 

Lady.  You  needn't  tell  me.  Why,  didn't  she  begin  to 
laugh  right  out  loud,  and  the  other  one  wanted  to  know  what 
she  was  laughing  at  ?  And  she  started  in  to  read  to  her,  at 
the  top  of  her  voice.  It  was  too  much  for  me  this  time. 
There  we  sat  in  that  compartment,  helpless,  wondering 
what  was  coming  next.  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  have  to 
ask  them  to  show  some  consideration  for  the  girl.  I'd  bet- 
ter have  held  my  tongue!  How  they  did  go  for  us!  I 
didn't  ring  the  alarm  and  stop  the  train  because  I  was  too 
excited.  It  isn't  safe  to  travel  with  people  who  begin  to 
gabble  and  talk  the  minute  they  lay  eyes  on  you,  and  tell 
you  all  their  private  affairs  just  as  if  you  were  one  of  the 


6  NO  SMOKING 

family.  People  ought  to  be  careful  what  they  say.  The 
very  least  that  happens  is  that  they  tell  you  some  scandal 
or  dishonesty  or  something  of  the  sort  about  Mr.  So-and-so 
— that  he  is  this  way  or  that  he  is  that  way,  and  the  next 
thing  you  know  he  turns  out  to  be  your  father.  And  a  per- 
son who  would  talk  like  that  about  your  father,  what  wouldn't 
he  say  about  your  uncle  or  your  cousins  or  any  one  else  in 
the  family  ?  And  there  you  are !  , 
The  Conductor  enters.         # 

Conductor.  Good  afternoon. .  •  ♦ 

Lady.  The  tickets,  child !  What  have  you  done  with  the 
tickets? 

Young  Lady.  Why,  you  have  them,  mamma ! 

Lady.  No,  my  dear;  I  gave  them  to  you — the  last  time 
they  came  round.  I  am  so  sorry —  [The  cat  begins  to  howl.] 
My  dear!  [The  Young  Lady  begins  to  sing.]  I  can't  find 
them;  you  must  have  them.  What's  that.^  Ah,  yes!  Of 
course !    Wait  a  minute.    Here  they  are 

Conductor.  Thank  you.    G9od  afternoon.     [He  goes  out. 

Young  Lady.  What  did  you  ask  me  for  ?  You  knew 
perfectly  well  that  I  couldn't  stop  singing. 

Lady.  I  wonder  what  that  animal  has  against  the  con- 
ductor.'* I  told  you  it  was  a  nuisance;  now  judge  for  your- 
self. If  it  wasn't  that  my  relations  with  my  sister-in-law 
are  a  little  bit  strained — you  understand — I  don't  want  to 
give  her  a  chance  to  do  any  talking —  Well,  the  fact  is  she 
wasn't  pleased  because  I  married  a  second  time.  Just  as  if 
I  would  be  likely  to  forget  my  first  husband  any  sooner  on 
that  account !  Put  yourself  in  my  place.  Suppose  you  had 
been  a  widow  of  twenty-six  without  any  visible  means  of 
support,  and  the  man  who  was  in  love  with  you,  without 
any  offense  to  his  predecessor,  without  reflecting  upon  his 
merits  in  the  least,  was  the  best  man  in  the  world — ^I  ought 


NO  SMOKING  7 

to  have  known,  though,  that  it  couldn*t  last.  Something 
was  sure  to  happen —    Good  Lord  !    What's  the  matter  ? 

Gentleman.  We  are  coming  to  a  tunnel. 

Lady.  Horrors !  [They  pass  into  a  tunnel.  After  a  moment 
they  come  out]  Don't  look  at  that  gentleman.  I  was  the 
one  who  pinched  you  on  the  arm 

Gentleman.  Madam! 

Lady.  But  that  was  not  all.  My  sister-in-law  is  of  a 
very  domineering  disposition.  She  is  the  moneyed  mem- 
ber of  the  family,  and,  naturally,  she  expects  everybody  to 
bow  down  before  her.  She  wants  them  to  grovel.  Well, 
that  isn't  my  style.  If  I  say  anything  she  doesn't  like,  it 
results  in  an  explosion.  Now  she  has  set  herself  on  marry- 
ing my  daughter  to  a  nephew  of  hers  about  whom  we  know 
absolutely  nothing.  It  is  a  delicate  subject.  A  woman  only 
marries  once;  at  least,  the  first  time  that  is  all  that  she 
counts  on.  She  plans  no  further  ahead.  She  says  he  is  a 
nice  fellow,  but  I  have  made  inquiries —  Look  out  of  the 
window,  my  dear —  I  hear  he  is  very  fond  of  the  ladies. 
But  what  of  that?  All  men  are  alike.  Would  you  believe 
it,  when  we  had  been  married  only  eight  days,  I  surprised 
my  first  husband  kissing  the  nurse  .^ 

Gentleman.  Did  you  have  a  nurse  when  you  had  been 
married  only  eight  days  ? 

Lady.  For  my  little  sister.  For  heaven's  sake,  what  did 
you  think  ? 

Young  Lady.  Mamma !  Mamma !  Look  at  all  the  lit- 
tle rabbits ! 

Lady.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  little  rabbits.  You  can 
take  your  head  in  now.    We  were  discussing  your  fiance. 

Young  Lady.  What  does  this  gentleman  think  ? 

Lady.  He  thinks  the  same  as  I  do.  He  says  that  without 
knowing  him  thoroughly —    And  he  is  perfectly  right 


8  NO  SMOKING 

Gentleman.  [Aside]  Where  did  this  woman  get  the  idea 
that  I  said  anything  ? 

Lady.  Are  we  coming  to  a  stop  ? 

Young  Lady.  Yes,  we  are  stopping  now.  That  was  a 
long  run,  mamma. 

Gentleman.  I  believe  I  shall  get  out  and  stretch  myself 
for  a  moment.    With  your  permission,  ladies 

Lady.  Be  sure  you  have  time  enough. 

Gentleman.  Yes.    The  engine  takes  in  water. 

[The  Gentleman  goes  out 

A  Voice.  [Outside]  Two  minutes !  The  train  stops  two 
minutes ! 

Another  Voice.  Water !    Who  wants  water  ? 

Another  Voice.  Buy  your  cinnamon-cakes !  Cmnamon- 
cakes ! 

Young  Lady.  Manmia,  I  want  some  cinnamon-cakes. 

Lady.  Didn't  I  tell  you  when  you  were  travelling  to  be 
careful  what  you  ate.''  We've  had  spice  enough  already. 
We're  a  great  deal  better  off  in  this  compartment.  That 
seems  to  be  a  very  nice  gentleman.  Probably  he  is  taking  a 
little  vacation —  I  think  we  saw  him  in  Madrid  one  after- 
noon with  a  fat  lady,  that  day  we  were  at  the  Lyric  to  see 
"The  Iron  Ring."  Don't  you  remember  the  woman  who 
sat  in  front  of  us  with  the  big  hat,  so  that  you  couldn't  see  ? 
She  cried  through  all  the,  sad  parts. 

Young  Lady.  I  don't  remember,  mamma. 

Lady.  When  I  get  a  good  look  at  a  person  I  never  for- 
get.    I'll  ask  him  when  he  comes  back. 

Voices.  All  aboard!  Passengers  who  are  going  will 
please  take  the  train ! 

Lady.  Goodness,  there's  the  bell !  The  gentleman  hasn't 
come  back —  See  if  he's  on  the  platform —  Can't  you  see 
him? 

Young  Lady.  No. 


NO  SMOKING  9 

Lady.  Here!  Stop!  Don't  start  the  train!  There's  a 
gentleman  missing ! —  I  wonder  where  he  can  be  ?  The 
train  is  moving —  He's  left —  What  can  the  matter  be? 
Too  bad !    What  a  pity ! 

Young  Lady.  He  hasn't  moved  to  another  compartment. 
Here  are  his  things. 

Lady.  Of  course  he  hasn't.  We  had  better  throw  them 
out  of  the  window.  He  can  pick  them  up  on  the  platform. 
It's  the  best  we  can  do  for  him. 

Young  Lady.  Yes !    It's  the  best. 

Lady.  Help  me !    Hurry  up ! 

Young  Lady.  There  they  go ! 

Lady.  They  belong  to  a  gentleman  who  has  lost  the 
train!  Keep  them  for  him!  He'll  be  out  in  a  minute! — 
Didn't  he  know  that  the  train  doesn't  wait  for  anybody  ?  I 
am  so  sorry ! 

Young  Lady.  We  forgot  the  book. 

Lady.  Never  mind;  it's  all  right.  It  won't  be  like  the 
other  one,  anyhow —    What  a  pity ! 

Young  Lady.  [Looking  at  the  book]  What  a  pity ! 

Lady.  If  there  isn't  another  train  to-day  and  his  family 
should  be  waiting  for  him  and  he  should  be  ashamed  to  let 
them  know —  I  hate  to  think  of  it!  It's  too  horrible  for 
words ! 

Young  Lady.  [Giggling]  Too  horrible ! 

Lady.  God  bless  me!  It's  too  bad.  While  he  was  here, 
we  had  an  escort,  as  it  were.  We  were  having  a  very  agree- 
able conversation.  It  was  easy  to  see  he  had  acquired  a 
great  deal  of  information. 

Young  Lady.  He  was  very  good-looking.  Listen,  mamma; 
where  did  you  say  that  you  pinched  me  in  the  tunnel?  On 
the  arm  ? 

Lady.  What  do  you  want  to  know  that  for? 

Young  Lady.  Nothing.    Because  it  hurts. 


) 


L 


10  NO  SMOKING 

Lady.  I  am  so  nervous;  I'm  always  afraid  of  those  tun- 
nels. You  never  can  tell  what  is  going  to  happen  in  a  tun- 
nel. However,  it's  too  late  now  for  regrets —  Don't  you 
feel  hungry  ? 

Young  Lady.  I  should  say  I  do.  It  always  gives  me  an 
appetite  to  ride  on  the  train. 

Lady.  If  you  travelled  more  maybe  you'd  pick  up  faster. 
Now  you  look  like  half  a  Philopena —  Hand  me  down  the 
basket —    Better  see  how  the  cat  is. 

Young  Lady.  Hello,  kitty !  Puss !  Puss !  My,  what 
eyes !    They  shine  like  fire. 

Lady.  I'm  thankful  it  hasn't  given  us  any  trouble,  though. 
It's  time  to  eat. 

Young  Lady.  Another  stop. 

Lady.  Good.    We  can  spread  the  things  out  now. 

A  Voice.  One  minute !    One  minute ! 

Another  Voice.  Water !    Who  wants  water  ? 

Lady.  These  breaded  chops  ought  to  taste  good.  Spread 
the  paper  for  a  cloth —    Give  me  a  napkin —    Don't  upset 

the  wine-bottle 

The  Gentleman  re-enters. 

Gentleman.  I  beg  your  pardon,  ladies 

Lady.  Eh? 

Young  Lady.  Oh ! 

Lady.  What !    You  again? 

Gentleman.  Yea,  I  was  riding  in  the  smoking-car. 

Lady.  But  weren't  you  left  behind  ? 

Young  Lady.  We  thought 

Gentleman.  But  my  luggage  ?    How  is  this  ? 

Lady.  Oh !    I  beg  your  pardon ! 

Young  Lady.  You  see 

Lady.  We  thought  you  had  missed  the  train,  and,  so  as 
to  oblige  you 


NO  SMOKING  11 

Young  Lady.  We  threw  it  out  of  the  window. 

Gentleman.  Who  told  you  to  do  that? 

Lady.  To  accommodate  you 

Young  Lady.  How  were  we  to  suppose 

Gentleman.  But  what  am  I  to  do  now?  The  devil! 
These  women —  I  ought  to  have  known  that  you  would  be 
up  to  something ! 

Lady.  If  you  are  going  to  take  it  like  this,  sir 

Gentleman.  How  the  devil  do  you  expect  me  to  take  it? 

Lady.  Why  didn't  you  tell  us  what  you  were  going  to  do  ? 

Gentleman.  Every  time  I  go'  out  do  I  have  to  hold  up 
my  hand  to  you  ?    If  you  weren't  irresponsible 

Lady.  I  don't  allow  gentlemen  to  call  me  irresponsible; 
nor  my  daughter,  either.    Where  are  your  manners  ? 

Gentleman.  Madam !    Would  you  recognize  them  ? 

Lady.  You  don't  know  what  you  are  talking  about.  You 
are  the  one  who  is  irresponsible. 

Gentleman.  I? 

Lady.  Yes !    You're  mad !    You're  crazy ! 

Young  Lady.  Why,  mamma ! 

Voice.  Passengers  who  are  going  will  please  take  the 
train !    All  aboard ! 

Lady.  You  can  telegraph  when  we  get  to  the  next  station. 

Gentleman.  I  can,  can  I  ? —    My  bags !    My  bags ! 

Lady.  A  lady  ought  never  to  travel  without  a  private 
compartment. 

Gentleman.  Oh,  travel  in  the  dog-car ! 

Lady.  I  ?    In  the  dog-car  ? 

Gentleman.  Chained. 

Young  Lady.  Mamma !    Mamma ! 
All  talk  at  the  same  time. 

Curtain 


PRINCESS    BEBÉ 

SCENES    FROM   MODERN    LIFE 
ARRANGED    IN    FOUR    ACTS 

First  Presented  by  the  Compañía  Guerrero-Mendoza 
AT  THE  Teatro  Español,  Madrid,  on  the  Evening 
OF  the  Thirty-first  of  March,  1909 


CHARACTERS  APPEARING  IN  THE 
FIRST  ACT 

The  Emperor  Michael  Alexander  of  Suavla. 
Prince  Stephen 
Prince  Maurice  (aged  fifteen) 
Prince  Alex  (aged  eight) 
The  Chancellor 
Herr  Stirger,  the  Tutor 
Princess  Helena 

Princess  Margaret  (aged  fourteen) 
Baroness  Esther  von  Rosenberg 
Countess  Adelaide  von  Rosenkranz 
Also  Attendants  at  the  Imperial  Palace 


THE    FIRST    ACT 

An  apartvient  in  the  Imperial  Suite  of  the  Palace  of  Suavia. 

At  the  reaVy  a  garden  covered  with  snow. 
Princess  Margaret,  Prince  Maurice,  Prince  Alex,  and 

the  Countess  von  Rosenkranz  surround  the  Tutor, 

who  expounds  the  daily  history  lesson. 

Tutor.  However,  every  day  could  not  be  glorious  in  the 
history  of  the  Kingdom  of  Suavia.  Michael  VIII  was  a 
prudent  king,  a  model  of  public  and  private  virtues.  His 
wife,  Edvigia,  was  a  model  queen,  as  all  the  queens  of  Suavia 
have  been  since  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth  century, 
although,  as  we  have  already  seen,  previous  to  the  seven- 
teenth, particularly  during  the  fourteenth  and  fifteenth,  there 
may  have  been  an  occasional  one  of  unhappy  memory. 

Countess.  Pardon,  Herr  Stirger,  but  Queen  Theodo- 
linda,  to  whom  you  refer,  has  been  gravely  disparaged  in  my 
opinion  through  being  called  the  Messalina  of  Suavia.  Have 
you  read  the  recent  monograph  of  Herr  Tomberg,  published 
in  the  Journal  of  Historical  Sciences?  It  would  appear  that 
the  name  of  Theodolinda  had  been  completely  vindicated. 
Herr  Tomberg  proves  that  the  unfortunate  eccentricities  of 
the  queen  did  not  reflect  so  much  upon  herself  as  upon 
her  husband,  who,  it  seems,  condoned  them. 

Tutor.  Very  possibly.    May  we  proceed.  Countess  ? 

Countess.  Do  so,  and  pardon  again.  Queen  Theodolinda 
has  always  been  such  a  sympathetic  figure  to  me ! 

Tutor.  We  now  arrive  at  a  dark  page  in  the  reign  of 
Michael  VIII,  unjustly  called  the  Simple  by  his  detractors, 
who  were  many.  But  for  them  his  reign  was  glorious.  The 
battle  of  Kuntz  was  not  lost  through  the  cowardice  of  our 

15 


16  PRINCESS  BEBÉ 


ACT  I 


troops  or  the  incompetence  of  our  generals,  as  might  be 
imagined,  but  through  treachery 

Countess.  This  time  I  must  interrupt  you  without  ask- 
ing pardon.  There  never  was  any  such  treachery  as  that 
to  which  you  now  refer.  You  are  speaking  of  one  of  my  an- 
cestors, whose  memory  has  been  completely  vindicated  from 
that  infamous  calumny. 

Tutor.  Countess,  pardon  me.  I  was  not  aware  that  Baron 
von  Rosenkranz  of  the  battle  of  Kuntz  was  related  in  any 
way  to  the  present  Counts  of  Rosenkranz. 

Countess.  The  succession  is  direct,  except  for  a  charge  of 
bastardy,  which  is  an  honor  to  our  house,  as  the  blemish 
was  of  royal  blood.  To  be  sure,  historians  speak  of  a  betrayal 
of  his  country,  but  who  are  historians?  I  could  show  you 
over  six  hundred  letters  from  the  archives  of  our  family,  all 
of  them  in  Baron  von  Rosenkranz's  own  hand,  had  you  lei- 
sure to  examine  them,  in  which  he  explains  away  the  vile 
accusation.  It  is  impossible  to  read  them  without  being 
convinced.  Teach  history  to  the  Princes  of  Suavia,  among 
whose  loyal  vassals  the  Rosenkranz  have  always  been  and 
are.  As  the  last,  the  most  unworthy  of  their  line,  it  is  my 
duty  to  declare  to  the  Princes  of  Suavia,  on  behalf  of  my 
ancestors,  that  there  never  was  a  traitor,  either  to  his  king 
or  to  his  country,  whose  name  was  Rosenkranz ! 

Prince  Maurice.  Of  course  we  should  not  believe  it. 
Countess.     Herr  Stirger  did  not  wish  to  give  offense. 

Tutor.  On  the  contrary,  my  aim  is  to  emphasize  virtue 
and  heroism  in  our  lessons,  passing  over  all  doubtful  points 
in  silence,  or  touching  them  but  lightly,  as  the  case  may  be. 
They  are  not  altogether  absent  from  public  or  private  his- 
tory. 

Countess.  It  is  as  His  Majesty  desires.  History  should 
be  a  mirror  of  virtue  to  those  who  some  day  must  be  kings. 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  17 

Prince  Maurice.  Fortunately,  since  the  beginning  of  the 
seventeenth  century  the  Kings  of  Suavia 

Countess.  Highness,  since  your  glorious  dynasty  as- 
cended the  throne. 

Prince  Maurice.  They  have  all  been  mirrors  of  virtue. 

Princess  Margaret.  The  kings  and  the  queens  have, 
but  since  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century  the  princes 
and  princesses 

Countess.  Highness!  Take  care!  His  Majesty  has 
prohibited  expressly  reference  or  allusion  to  the  recent  un- 
happy events  which  have  saddened  his  heart,  alas ! — and 
the  hearts  of  his  loyal  subjects. 

Tutor.  Alas! 

Prince  Maurice.  The  Emperor  told  us  yesterday  that 
our  uncle  and  aunt.  Prince  Stephen  and  Princess  Helena,  were 
both  dead. 

Prince  Alex.  [Aside  to  Margaret]  I  have  a  surprise  for 
you  later. 

Princess  Margaret.  [Idem]  What  is  it  ? 

Prince  Alex.  [Idem]  Wait  until  we  are  alone. 

Prince  Maurice.  [Idem]  What  does  Alex  say  ? 

Princess  Margaret.  Some  foolishness  or  other.  Wait 
until  we  are  alone. 

Trumpets  play  the  Royal  March  outside. 

Countess.  His  Majesty  returns  to  the  Palace. 

Prince  Maurice.  Then  the  study  hour  is  over. . . . 

Tutor.  Yes,  that  will  be  all  for  to-day. 

Princess  Margaret.  Does  the  Emperor  visit  us  or  shall 
we  go  to  him  ? 

Countess.  As  yet  I  have  received  no  instructions.  The 
confusion  at  Court  because  of  the  arrival  of —  I  forgot  that 
it  was  not  to  be  mentioned. 

Prince  Maurice.  Oh !  What  harm  can  it  do  ?    The  ar- 


18  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  acti 

rival  of  Prince  Stephen.  You  can  tell  it  by  the  humor  the 
Emperor  is  in.    And  the  Empress !  .  .  .  . 

Princess  Margaret.  The  Empress  refused  to  see  us. 

Prince  Alex.  She  saw  me. 

Princess  Margaret.  You  are  the  favorite  grandchild. 

Prince  Maurice.  The  Emperor  is  furious.  When  I  asked 
if  I  could  go  sleighing  in  the  park  yesterday,  he  forbade 
me. 

Countess.  I  must  obtain  the  order  of  the  day.  Be  dis- 
creet during  my  absence.    Herr  Stirger  will  remain  with  you. 

Tutor.  Although  I  have  not  yet  had  luncheon 

Countess.  I  shall  not  be  long.  [She  goes  out. 

Prince  Maurice.  Alex !  Alex !  It's  all  right.  Herr 
Stirger  doesn't  mind;  we  are  alone  now.  He  dislikes  the 
Countess  as  much  as  we  do. 

Princess  Margaret.  Wasn't  it  jolly  while  he  was  telling 
us  about  the  treason  of  her  old  ancestor.'* 

Prince  Maurice.  He  promised  to  do  it  yesterday.  We 
knew  it  would  make  her  angry. 

Princess  Margaret.  Did  you  notice  what  she  has  been 
doing  to  her  hair.'* 

Prince  Maurice.  Yes,  the  old  cathedral  has  put  in 
stained  glass.    Alex,  what  have  you  got  ?    Hurry  up ! 

Princess  Margaret.  Before  the  (^ountess  comes  back. 

Prince  Alex.  Here  it  is Ulllustration  Fran^aise. 

Guess  what  is  in  it.    Look ! 

Prince  Maurice.  Give  it  to  me !  Let  me  see. — Watch 
the  door,  Herr  Stirger.    Tell  us  if  any  one  is  coming. 

Tutor.  Perhaps  I  had  better  see  myself  first Oh, 

Highness !    Where  did  you  get  this  paper  ? 

Prince  Alex.  In  the  Empress's  room.  She  had  it  hidden 
away,  but  I  found  it. 

Tutor.  You  surprise  me. 


ACTi  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  19 

Princess  Margaret.  Nobody  cares  what  he  does,  because 
he  is  the  spoiled  darling.  It  would  be  different  if  it  were  one 
of  us.  What  does  it  say  ?  "  Latest  Scandals  at  the  Court  of 
Suavia." 

Prince  Maurice.  With  pictures  of  Prince  Stephen  and  ^' 
la  Konigsberg,  his  wife .... 

Tutor.  His  morganatic  wife. 

Prince  Alex.  His  mistress. 

Tutor.  Highness! 

Princess  Margaret.  Say  favorite,  Alex. 

Prince  Maurice.  Yes,  a  cocotte.  It  sounds  better  in 
French,  doesn't  it.^    French  is  the  diplomatic  language. 

Tutor.  Your  Highness  appears  to  have  developed  a  talent 
for  piquant  observation,  wholly  improper  in  a  prince.  Princes 
should  be  of  a  benevolent,  optimistic  turn  of  mind.  The 
lady  is  an  actress,  not  a  cocotte,  as  you  miscall  it. 

Prince  Maurice.  What  is  the  difference,  as  long  as  she 
is  good-looking  ?    Look  out !    Is  any  one  coming  ? 

Tutor.  No,  no,  no  one —    Ah !  she  is  good-looking. 

Prince  Alex.  Oh,  she  is  pretty !    Yes,  she  is ! 

Princess  Margaret.  His  Highness,  Prince  Alex,  thinks 
that  she  is  pretty.    What  do  you  know  about  it,  little  imp .'' 

Prince  Alex.  Well,  she  is  prettier  than  the  women  in  our 
famUy.  The  paper  says  so:  "In  the  Royal  Family  of  Suavia 
the  women  are  all  insignificant.  The  Princes,  however" — 
listen  to  this — '*Ils  sont  le  type  accompli  de  la  beauté  virile.** 

Princess  Margaret.  I  shall  box  your  ears  for  that. 

Prince  Alex.  I  dare  you  to ! 

Tutor.  Highness !    She  is  your  sister. 

Prince  Alex.  What  is  the  use  of  being  silly  ? 

Prince  Maurice.  Stop  quarrelling.  Hello !  More  pic- 
tures. . .  .  "Princess  Helena  of  Suavia,  popularly  known 
as  Princess  Bebé." 


20  PRINCESS  BEBÉ 


ACT  I 


Princess  Margaret.  She  is  better-looking  than  la  Konigs- 
berg.    How  distinguished ! 

Prince  Maurice.  "Herr  Albert  Rosmer,  with  whom  the 
Princess" 

Tutor.  Put  the  paper  down,  Your  Highness.  When  you 
see  their  pictures  on  the  same  page,  the  rest  is  suggested. 
Give  me  that  paper;  it  ought  not  to  remain  in  your  hands 
another  moment.  Suppose  this  should  be  brought  to  the  at- 
tention of  Their  Majesties  .^^  These  French  papers  stop  at 
nothing  which  can  prejudice  a  ruling  house.  France  is  a 
country  without  faith,  without  religion;  it  is  a  blot  with  its 
republic  upon  the  face  of  Europe.  Kings  and  princes  should 
unite  against  it,  as  they  did  in  the  days  of  Napoleon.  These 
articles  make  me  blush,  they — they —  [Continuing  to  read  in 
spite  of  himself]  Yet  there  is  something  about  them  which  is 
fascinating,  the  style. . . .  These  Frenchmen  are  the  devil! 
RiNCE  Maurice.  What  does  it  say  ? 

Tutor.  Nothing,  nothing —    Lies !    Slander ! 

Prince  Maurice.  The  Emperor ! .  .  .  . 

Princess  Margaret.  A  nice  fix  we  are  in ! 

Prince  Alex.  Confined  to  our  rooms  for  a  week ! 

Tutor.  The  storm  always  bursts  upon  my  innocent  head. 
^Cr.'^v'*  The  Emperor  and  the  Countess  Adelaide  enter. 

Emperor.  Have  you  finished  the  lesson  ? 

Prince  Alex.  Grandfather !     Grandfather  dear ! 

Emperor.  Alex,  what  is  this?  Military  salute!  I  have 
appointed  Your  Highness  to  my  body-guard.  You  have  been 
made  sergeant. 

Prince  Alex.  Shall  I  wear  a  cuirass  over  my  uniform  ? 
Promise  to  make  me  lieutenant  next  year,  like  Maurice. 

Prince  Maurice.  Next  year  ?    Wait  until  you  deserve  it. 

Princess  Margaret.  You  will  be  promoted  just  as  he  was 
— for  your  fighting  qualities. 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  21 

Prince  Maurice.  Oh,  I  do  wish  we  might  have  war ! 

Emperor.  Not  so  fast !  War  is  never  desirable,  especially 
now  that  it  has  become  so  expensive.  Herr  Stirger,  are  your 
pupils  making  rapid  progress  ?  I  charge  you  to  be  strict  with 
them.  Always,  always  forget  that  they  are  princes,  or  rather 
never  forget  it.  Bear  in  mind  that  it  is  for  them  to  be  first 
in  the  rigid  performance  of  duty.  What  paper  is  that  you 
hold  behind  your  back  ?  Its  appearance  seems  familiar.  One 
moment —  What?  Is  it  French?  Upon  my  soul!  How 
did  this  paper  come  into  the  Palace?  Herr  Stirger,  is  this 
your  conception  of  history,  of  literature  ?  Countess  Adelaide, 
is  this  the  influence  which  you  exert  over  the  Princes  ?  To 
permit  such  papers  in  their  study  hour !  How  did  this  paper 
come  into  your  possession  ?  There  is  no  security  any  longer 
in  the  Palace.  I  never  know  at  what  moment  I  may  lay  my 
hand  upon  an  anarchistic  proclamation,  or  a  libel,  or  upon 
publications  such  as  this,  with  pictures,  with  stories 

Countess.  Your  Majesty,  I  am  at  a  loss  to  understand 
how  this  paper  escaped  my  attention. 

Tutor.  His  Highness  Prince  Alex  may  explain  to  Your 
Majesty. 

Emperor.  You  ?    Have  you  seen  it  ?    You ! 

Prince  Maurice.  Too  bad  you  have  joined  the  army ! 
You  will  be  shot. 

Prince  Alex.  [Bursting  into  tears]  Grandfather ! 

Emperor.  What  is  this?  You  are  speaking  with  your 
superior  oJEcer.  Military  salute!  Explain  how  this  paper 
came  into  your  possession. 

Prince  Alex.  I  found  it  in  the  Empress's  room;  I  didn't 
know  that  there  was  anything  in  it 

Emperor.  Silence !  Of  course  there  is  nothing  in  it.  In 
the  Empress's  room,  did  you  say  ?  Women  are  curious  crea- 
tures.   Countess,  you  may  return  it  to  the  Empress. 


22  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  i 

Countess.  If  I  might  offer  a  suggestion  to  Your  Majesty, 
perhaps  if  the  Empress  were  to  continue  in  ignorance .... 

Emperor.  Quite  superfluous.  She  will  be  more  careful 
another  time,  now  that  she  is  advised  that  she  has  a  grand- 
son who  is  so  enterprising.  [Aside  to  the  Countess]  She  will 
be  proud  of  him,  too,  I  assure  you.  [The  Countess  goes  out] 
Attention,  Sergeant !  For  this  breach  of  discipline,  which  is 
your  first,  you  are  forbidden  to  go  skating  this  afternoon,  and 
for  the  next  three  days  you  may  eat  by  yourself,  apart  from 
your  brother  and  sister. 

Princess  Margaret.  What  a  blessed  relief ! 

Prince  Alex.  Don't  you  envy  me? 

Princess  Margaret.  It  serves  you  right. 

Prince  Alex.  I  could  tell  grandfather  some  nice  stories 
about  you  and  Maurice. 

Prince  Maurice.  You  are  a  fine  soldier— a  tattle-tale  and 
a  coward. 

Prince  Alex.   Who.?    I? 

Emperor.  Silence !  That  will  do.  Herr  Stirger,  continue 
your  instruction^in  the  library.  I  require  this  apartment  for 
a  private  conference,  as  it  has  a  separate  entrance. 

Tutor.  We  have  concluded  our  studies  for  the  day. 

Emperor.  Good!  Then  the  Countess  may  accompany 
the  Princes  to  pay  their  respects  to  the  Empress.  Margaret, 
my  dear,  a  kiss;  Maurice,  your  hand.    Alex 

Prince  Alex.  Will  Your  Majesty  forgive  me  ? 

Prince  Maurice.  Coward !    A  man  never  apologizes. 

Emperor.  I  forgive  you  this  time,  but  if  it  happens  again— 
Maurice,  read  him  the  army  regulations. 

Prince  Alex.  May  I  go  skating  with  Margaret  and  Mau- 
rice ? 

Emperor.  Of  course  you  may. 

Prince  Alex.  I  don't  mind  eating  by  myself,  because 
Maurice  and  Margaret  always  tease  me. 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  23 

Princess  Margaret.  We  do,  do  we  ?    He  is  intolerable. 

Prince  Maurice.  He  is  a  glutton;  he  eats  with  his  fingers 
when  the  Countess  is  not  looking. 

Prince  Alex.  You  dip  your  bread  into  the  gravy. 

Princess  Margaret.  And  you  stuff  pastries  into  your 
pockets. 

Prince  Alex.  It's  for  Mogul. 

Emperor.  Silence! 

Tutor.  Highnesses,  His  Majesty  grows  impatient. 

Emperor.  Yes,  you  may  retire. 
^ '  ^    The  Princes  and  Princess  withdraw  with  the  Tutor. 
An    Usher    enters,    followed    shortly    by    Prince 
Stephen. 

Prince  Stephen.  How  shall  I  address  you  ?  Your  Maj- 
esty, father —  You  have  always  been  a  father  to  me,  since 
I  never  knew  my  own.  As  head  of  the  family,  his  brother. 
Emperor,  I  have  always  loved  and  respected  you. 

Emperor.  Always  .^^  Sit  down.  No,  sit  nearer.  Al- 
though my  decision  not  to  see  you  was  irrevocable,  although 
I  had  determined  that  you  should  never  enter  the  Palace 
again,  nevertheless,  as  your  complaints  have  become  in- 
cessant and  you  have  even  had  the  bad  taste  to  carry  your 
diatribes  to  the  radical  press,  thus  lending  aid  and  comfort  to 
my  enemies,  and  to  those  of  the  dynasty 

Prince  Stephen.  May  I 

Emperor.  I  have  not  finished.  We  shall  never  arrive  at 
an  understanding  through  correspondence  or  by  means  of 
emissaries,  so  I  have  preferred  to  arrange  this  interview,  which 
will  remain  private,  that  is,  unless  you  give  it  out  to  the  papers 
yourself,  intoxicated  with  your  new  role  of  journalist  and  your 
pose  as  Prince  who  is  thoroughly  up  to  date.  It  would  make 
one  of  those  typical  interviews  which  are  the  pride  and  glory 
of  the  modern  press.  If  the  Empress  were  to  learn  of  this, 
the  shock  would  cost  her  an  illness.    Her  health  is  already 


24  PRINCESS  SpEBÉ  act  i 

precarious,  as  is  mine,  thanks  to  our  beloved  nephews  and 
nieces,  whose  only  thought,  apparently,  is  to  sweeten  the 
final  years  of  our  reign,  or  to  hasten  its  close.  As  if  you  were 
not  bad  enough,  Helena  focuses  the  attention  of  the  entire 
civilized  world  upon  us  and  our  house. 

Prince  Stephen.  It  is  surely  not  my  fault  that  my  cousin 
has  chosen  this  moment  to  agitate  her  divorce,  not  to  speak 
of  her  elopement  with  her  husband's  secretary. 

Emperor.  But  you  are  the  one  who  began  it.  She  would 
never  have  dared,  if  it  had  not  been  for  you. 

Prince  Stephen.  I  fail  to  see  the  similarity;  my  position 
is  very  different  from  that  of  my  cousin. 

Emperor.  Perhaps,  but  two  scandals  in  three  months  are 
too  much  in  any  family.  In  a  ruling  dynasty  they  are  in- 
tolerable. This  is  a  restless  age,  when  every  hand  is  raised 
against  us.  Monarchies  do  not  exist  to-day  by  virtue  of 
divine  right  or  inherited  prerogative,  but  through  personal 
prestige,  through  the  respect  and  admiration  which  royalty  v 
inspires  by  its  behavior.  Making  ourselves  ridiculous  in  the 
eyes  of  those  who  no  longer  believe  in  us,  and  pathetic  in  the  / 
eyes  of  those  who  still  do,  is  an  ill  augury  for  the  future. 

Prince  Stephen.  I  must  decline  to  admit  having  fallen 
into  either  extreme,  although  I  very  well  understand  that  my 
conduct  may  appear  odious  to  courtiers  and  conservatives. 
But  are  you  familiar  with  liberal  opinion  ?  Frankly,  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  intelligent  person  could  laugh  at  me,  or 
take  exception  to  my  marrying  for  love  the  woman  I  adore. 

Emperor.  Have  you  noticed  that  the  liberal  and  revolu- 
tionary papers  are  the  ones  which  have  printed  all  the  jokes 
at  your  expense,  or  rather,  I  should  say,  at  ours  ?  That  shows 
their  appreciation  of  your  modernity,  your  liberalism,  and  how 
highly  they  value  this  love  of  yours,  which  in  their  eyes  ought 
certainly  to  appear  admirable. 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  25 

Prince  Stephen.  No  doubt  it  does.  It  is  not  a  question 
of  ideas,  however,  but  of  interests.  I  am  a  Prince;  it  is  to 
their  advantage  to  make  me  appear  ridiculous — personally, 
in  my  love,  and  in  my  marriage.  They  do  not  respect  me 
because  I  am  a  Prince,  yet  they  blame  me  because  I  love 
like  an  ordinary  man. 

Emperor.  Precisely.  You  have  hit  upon  the  reason  for 
the  universal  disapprobation  which  your  conduct  arouses, 
both  among  your  enemies  and  your  friends.  You  were  con- 
tent to  enjoy  the  prerogatives  of  Prince  so  long  as  it  suited 
you  to  do  so;  now  you  wish  to  share  the  immunities  of  a 
private  citizen,  because  it  happens  to  be  convenient.  That  is 
the  diflSculty,  that  is  what  the  public  with  unerring  instinct ; 
condemns.  Every  rank  has  its  obligations,  which  are  in  pro-  , 
portion  to  its  privileges. 

Prince  Stephen.  What  privileges  attached  to  mine  ?  I 
might  live  the  prescribed  routine,  provided  I  manifested  no 
initiative,  and  never  had  an  original  thought  of  my  own. 
You  conferred  the  command  of  a  regiment  upon  me;  no 
sooner  did  I  introduce  some  reforms,  which  would  have  im- 
proved the  condition  of  my  subordinates,  than  the  govern- 
ment took  alarm,  and  I  was  reprimanded  severely.  I  visited 
the  colonies,  and  returned  to  publish  my  observations.  The 
book  was  cut  down  by  the  censor  to  a  few  insignificant  banal- 
ities, for  which  I  blush  to  be  held  responsible.  If  I  desire  to 
contribute  to  charity,  I  must  restrain  my  generosity  so  that 
my  contributions  may  not  be  greater  than  yours,  nor  than 
those  of  others  who  are  nearer  the  throne.  I  am  a  lover  of 
art,  yet  I  am  not  able  to  express  my  admiration  for  an  artist 
or  for  his  work,  unless  it  accords  with  the  official  art  stand- 
ards and  is  thoroughly  orthodox.  It  is  the  same  with  every- 
thing. These  are  my  privileges.  My  initiative,  my  intelli- 
gence, my  sympathies  are  never  permitted  to  overstep  the 


26  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  i 

bounds  which  are  fixed  for  them  by  authority — bounds  as 
inviolable  as  the  frontiers  of  our  country.  What  have  you 
to  offer  in  exchange  for  a  life  lived  without  love  ? 

Emperor.  Without  love  ?  Is  there  no  other  love  than  that 
woman's  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  Not  for  me.  A  man  never  loves  more 
than  once  in  his  life;  the  only  love  for  him  is  that  of  the 
woman  whom  he  loves.  Of  course,  conceivably,  there  are  a 
great  many  persons  in  the  world  a  man  might  love,  just  as 
there  are  a  great  many  women,  a  great  many  countries,  a 
great  many  mothers.  But  our  love  is  the  only  love  for  us; 
that  is  why  we  think  it  is  the  best — because  it  is  ours,  like 
our  own  country,  or  our  own  mother.  Nobody  has  any 
choice  in  these  things,  yet  we  always  think  that  ours  is  the 
best.    The  only  one  possible  is  ours. 

Emperor.  You  were  scarcely  in  a  position  to  make  a  wise 
choice  when  you  persistently  absented  yourself  from  Court 
and  avoided  association  with  women  of  your  own  rank  and 
class,  to  hover  behind  the  scenes  of  a  theatre  and  cultivate 
the  society  of  a  comic-opera  singer. 

Prince  Stephen.  Of  an  adorable,  an  intelligent  woman, 
who  has  taught  me  to  know  myself,  behind  the  scenes — which, 
no  doubt,  seems  a  terrible  place  to  you — to  live  my  own  life, 
surrounded  by  real  people  who  are  living  their  own  lives  and 
succeeding  strictly  upon  their  merits.  She  has  cured  me  of 
my  prejudices,  she  has  strengthened  my  will,  she  has  aroused 
my  conscience 

Emperor.  No  doubt  she  has.  Excellent  theories  a  la 
Ibsen,  á  la  Tolstoy,  á  la  Nietzsche,  those  perturbers  of  weak 
minds,  who,  by  the  way,  should  have  been  born  in  Suavia. 
We  should  have  attended  to  them  and  have  made  an  exam- 
ple. Living  your  own  life  ?  Yes,  the  infallible  excuse  for 
every  imaginable  fault  and  delinquency.     Being  yourself. 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  27 

your  self!  As  if  life  were  ever  possible  for  one  without  the 
co-operation  of  all,  without  the  laws  of  society !  Good ! 
Since  these  are  your  ideas,  your  sentiments,  be  consistent  to 
the  end.  Your  life  is  that  which  you  mould  by  your  own  will, 
independently  of  the  disabilities  of  your  rank.  Well,  then, 
live  it,  and  do  not  expect  to  enjoy  the  privileges  of  your 
former  station. 

Prince  Stephen.  Do  you  ask  me  to  submit  to  the  injus- 
tice of  being  deprived  of  them .?  I  'am  in  a  worse  position 
without  them  than  the  man  who  never  knew  what  they 
were.  Such  persecution  is  implacable.  Your  humblest  sub- 
ject who  has  committed  an  unspeakable  crime  has  his  day 
in  court,  he  is  not  condemned,  as  I  have  been,  in  defiance  of 
all  the  laws  of  your  Empire,  which  guarantee  to  the  most 
abject  slave  the  right  of  disposing  of  his  hand  and  of  choosing 
the  companion  of  his  heart  freely. 

Emperor.  Those  same  abject  slaves  whom  your  poetic 
imagination  encourages  you  to  envy,  would  very  gladly  ex- 
change that  inestimable  right  for  the  privileges  and  income 
which  you  enjoyed  as  Prince,  with  no  further  effort  than  the 
accident  of  your  birth,  which  was  considerable.  \ 

Prince  Stephen.  Then  I  have  nothing  to  hope  ?  : 

Emperor.  Hope  to  be  happy.  What  more  do  you  wish  ?] 
You  will  make  a  great  mistake  if  you  are  not.  The  question 
is,  which  is  preferable — love,  or  the  income  and  dignities  of  a 
Prince?  Certainly  no  better  guarantee  of  happiness  could 
be  desired  than  the  assurance  that  your  love  loves  you  for 
yourself,  for  yourself  alone,  the  man  himself,  as  Shakespeare 
expresses  it. 

Prince  Stephen.  Very  well.  I  shall  ask  nothing  further 
of  you,  but  you  need  expect  nothing  of  me  in  return.  I  am 
released  from  all  obligation  to  my  princely  dignity.  Make 
no  attempt  to  prevent  what  I  purpose  doing  in  spite  of  it. 


28  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  i 

Emperor.  Only  do  it  out  of  Suavia ! 

Prince  Stephen.  What  did  I  tell  you?  Life  is  more  diffi- 
cult for  me  than  for  an  ordinary  man.  I  am  no  longer  Prince, 
yet  the  laws  which  protect  others  have  no  validity  for  me. 
You  banish  me  from  my  country. 

Emperor.  To  do  you  a  favor.  You  say  that  you  are 
anxious  to  support  yourself;  it  would  be  difficult  in  Suavia. 
You  are  too  well  known  here.  Nobody  would  offer  you  a 
menial  position,  while  if  the  opportunity  were  a  brilliant  one, 
you  would  feel,  naturally,  that  it  had  not  come  to  you  upon 
your  merits  as  a  man,  but  as  the  Emperor's  nephew.  Prince 
of  Suavia,  a  reflection  which  I  am  confident  would  prove 
most  offensive.  [Cheers  outside]  But  why  these  cheers  ?  What 
is  the  matter? 

^  •     He  strikes  a  bell.     The  Chancellor  enters. 
O*^   Chancellor.  Pardon,  Your  Majesty.  . . . 

Emperor.  How  is  this  ?    What  are  these  shouts  ? 

Chancellor.  Your  Majesty,  it  is  unprecedented;  imperti- 
nence without  parallel  in  my  experience 

Emperor.  It  is  ?    Speak ! 

Chancellor.  Princess  Helena  has  arrived  at  Court.  Upon 
alighting  from  the  train,  she  took  a  sleigh  before  it  was  possi- 
ble to  prevent  her,  and  drove  straight  through  the  heart  of 
the  city  to  the  Palace  gates.    And  she  is  with  us  now. 

Emperor.  [To  the  Prince]  Now  you  see  what  you  have 
done!  Shall  I  tolerate  this?  She  has  heard  that  you  are 
here,  so  she  dares  to  presume !  I  always  regret  promptly  any 
leniency  I  may  show.    What  is  the  meaning  of  these  cheers  ? 

ChancelIíOR.  a  crowd  has  gathered  out  of  curiosity. 
The  students  acclaim  the  Princess,  taking  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  to  demonstrate  against  the  government. 

Emperor.  Which  should  have  anticipated  the  outbreak  and 
have  been  prepared  for  it.     How  has  the  Princess  arrived 


ACT  I 


PRINCESS  BEBÉ 


without  advices  having  been  received  of  her  departure? 
Has  the  Department  of  State  no  intelligence  ?  Our  Secret 
Service  deserves  the  name.  Is  this  street  demonstration  to  be 
permitted  for  the  remainder  of  the  day  ? 

Chancellor.  The  guard  will  clear  the  vicinity  of  the 
Palace.  Your  Majesty  is  familiar  with  student  character. 
Princess  Helena  is  popular  with  the  younger  element;  her 
love-affairs  interest.  Besides,  a  young  poet,  admired  in  Bo- 
hemian circles,  has  composed  a  poem  which  the  students  sing 
and  shout  on  the  street-corners,  a  sort  of  paean  to  love,  a 
satire  upon 

Emperor.  Upon  me,  is  it  not.? 

Chancellor.  Upon  the  government,  Your  Majesty. 

Emperor.  Oh,  no !  If  it  had  been  upon  the  government, 
the  poem  would  have  been  suppressed  and  the  author  would 
have  been  in  prison  by  this  time.  Do  you  say  that  Princess 
Helena  is  in  the  Palace  ? 

Chancellor.  It  seemed  inadvisable  to  stop  her.  She 
inquired  for  the  Empress. 

Emperor.  Who  surely  refused  to  see  her.    It  is  a  pleasure 
reserved  for  myself ! 
gp.SP^  Countess  Adelaide  enters. 

Countess.  Your  Majesty,  have  you  heard  ?  Your  Maj- 
esty, Princess  Helena 

Emperor.  Yes,  yes.    Where  is  she? 

Countess.  The  Empress  has  collapsed.  She  refused  to 
receive  Her  Highness;  then  her  nerves  gave  way.  The  Court 
is  in  an  uproar.    Your  Majesty,  we  adored  Her  Highness ! 

Emperor.  Indeed  ?     Where  is  she  ? 

Countess.  Pardon,  Your  Majesty.  As  soon  as  she  learned 
that  the  Empress  had  refused  to  receive  her,  she  flew  at  once 
to  the  Princes.  No  one  thought  it  advisable  to  stop  her,  and 
she  is  closeted  with  them  now. 


30  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  i 

Emperor.  With  the  Princes  ?  Quick !  There  is  no  time 
to  lose.  Send  her  to  me,  I  command  it.  Do  you  hear,  I 
command  it !    Who  attends  Her  Highness  ? 

Countess.  The  Baroness  von  Rosenberg. 

Emperor.  Ah !    Has  the  Baroness  the  temerity  to  present 

herself  in  the  Palace  ?    Good !    I  have  an  account  to  settle 

with  the  Baroness.     [The  Countess  retires]  And  yet  you 

.intrude  yourself  into  my  presence,  you  beg  me  to  condone, 

to  approve  your  behavior!     To  think  that  I  have  railed 

all  these  years  against  the  inroads  of  socialism,  of  anarchy, 

the  forces  of  revolution !    No,  their  bombs  are  preferable  a 

/  thousand  times,  they  reinforce  and  buttress  the  principle  of 

/     authority  by  a  sort  of  natural  reaction,  but  thi§  anarchy 

/       from  above,  this  dissolution  of  all  decency  and  morality,  is 

infinitely  more  dangerous.     Better  fall  before  a  blow  than 

decay  gradually  and  disintegrate ! 

\  Chancellor.  Your  Majesty  is  quite  correct. 

Emperor.  The  punishment  shall  fit  the  offense,  I  promise 
you. 

Prince  Stephen.  Your  Majesty,  may  I  retire  ?  Argument 
is  useless  in  your  present  state  of  mind.  I  am  not  eager  to 
meet  my  cousin.  Obviously,  her  offense  is  responsible  for 
our  suffering  the  same  punishment  for  faults  which  are  dis- 
tinct. I  have  not  been  recreant  to  my  duty;  my  love  is 
noble,  it  is  legitimate.  Permit  me  to  kiss  Your  Majesty's 
hand.  My  affection  will  never  fail.  My  only  request  is  that 
you  do  not  pursue  me  with  your  displeasure  now  that  I 
am  banished  from  Suavia;  I  ask  it  as  a  favor.  My  fortune 
is  not  large,  so  that  my  task  will  be  diflScult.  I  cannot  fore- 
cast my  future  means  of  support— I  only  know  that  what- 
ever they  may  be,  they  will  not  be  unworthy  of  a  gentleman, 
although  he  may  no  longer  be  Prince.  Good-by,  Your  Maj- 
esty. Some  day  you  will  judge  me  more  justly. 
[The  Prince  goes  out.] 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  31 

Chancellor.  The  poor  Prince  has  my  sympathy. 

Emperor.  How  so  ?  He  has  the  strength  of  mind  to  have 
his  own  way;  let  him  fortify  it  by  opposing  mine.  A  Prince  of 
Suavia  married  to  a  comic-opera  singer !     It  seems  incredible. 

Chancellor.  Love,  Your  Majesty. 

Emperor.  Love  ?    Then  why  did  he  marry  ? 

Chancellor.  I  am  told  the  lady  is  virtuous. 

Emperor.  Always   distrust  that  brand  of  virtue  which 
keeps  one  eye  upon  marriage.    I  am  told  that  she  is  an  experi- 
enced woman.    My  nephew  is  an  ass,  utterly  ignorant,  both 
of  women  and  of  the  world.    If  she  had  been  a  respectable 
actress,  a  legitimate  artist  in  one  of  the  subsidized  theatres — 
but  a  comic-opera  singer,  who  appeared  only  a  month  ago  in 
**La  belle  Héléne"  and  "La  Filie  de  Mme.  Angót" !     It 
would  be  impossible  to  present  such  a  woman  at  Court.    As 
they  announced  her,  the  ushers  would  whistle  the  airs  which 
they  had  heard  her  sing  at  the  theatre  the  evening  previously. 
— A-hl   The  Princess !    Retire,  but  remain  within  call. 
$o*^  The  Chancellor  goes  out.    Princess  Helena,  Prince 
Maurice,  Princess  Margaret,  Prince  Alex,  the 
Countess  von   Rosenkranz,  and  the   Baroness 
VON  Rosenberg  enter. 

Princess  Helena.  Oh,  uncle ! — Your  Majesty 

Emperor.  Do  not  attempt  to  embrace  me.  [To  ¿^Princes 
and  Princess]  Who  desired  you  to  come  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Don't  scold  them!  They  all  love  me; 
and  I  love  them,  too.  Everybody  seems  to  love  me;  the 
crowds  ran  after  me,  shouting,  down  the  streets.  Nobody  has 
forgotten  Helena — Princess  Bebé,  as  they  used  to  call  me — 
for  I  was  the  life  of  the  Palace  in  those  days,  and  I  really 
beheve  I  left  my  heart  behind  me  when  I  went  away.  You  do 
love  me,  don't  you,  you  dear  children.'*  Margaret,  poor 
girl,  never  let  them  trifle  with  your  heart  as  they  did  witli 


32  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  i 

mine;  I  wish  you  all  the  happiness  which  I  might  have  found 
in  the  world.  Don't  you  yield  one  jot  when  they  attempt  to 
marry  you  to  a  man  whom  you  do  not  love,  and  never 
can. 

Princess  Margaret.  Don't  cry,  Helena !  Helena,  I  don't 
want  you  to  go  away ! 

Emperor.  That  will  do.    Countess,  remove  the  Princes. 

Countess.  Highnesses 

Emperor.  Helena  and  I  must  confer  for  the  last  time. 

Princess  Helena.  For  the  last  time  ?    You  are  inflexible. 

Prince  Maurice.  Grandfather  is  horribly  angry. 

Prince  Alex.  Will  all  the  toys  you  promised  me  surely 
come  to-day  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Of  course  they  will !  Just  you  wait  and 
see.  I  brought  you  an  automobile,  and  an  encampment  with 
soldiers  in  it  that  really  walk,  and  cannon  that  really  go  oflF. 

Prince  Alex.  Oh,  how  I  love  you ! 

Countess.  Follow  me. 

Princess  Margaret.  Grandfather 

Emperor.  What  is  this  ?  You  are  confined  to  your  rooms 
for  the  remainder  of  the  day.  We  have  already  had  suflficient. 
^  ^y'    Countess  Adelaide  retires  with  the  Princes. 

Princess  Helena.  Your  Majesty .... 

Emperor.  Well,  why  do  you  come  ?  Do  you  fancy  that  I 
am  so  weak  that  a  flood  of  tears  can  induce  me  to  forget  the 
duty  which  I  owe  to  our  house,  even  supposing  that  they 
"were  genuine  ?  If  I  did  not  judge  you  as  Emperor,  yet  as 
head  of  the  family,  I  should  be  obliged  to  repeat  what  you 
already  know:  in  my  sight  you  are  dead. 

Princess  Helena.  You  are  very  cruel.  I  asked  for  ad- 
vice, for  protection,  and  you  refused  to  hear  me.  Why  did 
you  oppose  my  divorce? 

Emperor.  A  divorce  in  our  family  ? 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  33 

Princess  Helena.  Apparently  the  laws  of  your  Empire 
are  not  equally  for  all  men.  I  have  better  reason  than  most 
to  appeal  to  them,  since  you  married  me  against  my  will. 

Emperor.  To  a  Prince  who  was  worthy  of  your  love. 

Princess  Helena.  You  have  witnessed  my  sufferings. 
Baroness. 

Baroness.  Alas !    Poor  dear ! 

Princess  Helena.  The  Prince  was  a  brute,  and  you  know 
it.  You  knew  me,  too;  you  knew  that  I  could  not  be  happy 
with  such  a  man. 

Emperor.  The  performance  of  duty  is  a  gratification  which 
we  have  always  with  us,  as  it  depends  wholly  upon  ourselves. 
Doubtless  it  is  one  of  the  subtler  forms  of  happiness,  but  for 
that  very  reason  appropriate  to  those  of  us  who  have  been 
born  into  exalted  station — whether  through  good  or  evil 
fortune. 

Princess  Helena.  You  are  a  man  and  a  sovereign.  It 
is  easy  for  you  to  compensate  yourself  for  whatever  sacrifices 
you  may  make  by  noble  deeds  and  glorious,  victorious  ex- 
ploits. But  love  is  the  only  motive  of  a  woman's  heart — j 
without  love,  duty,  ambition,  sacrifice,  the  moral  law,  evenl 
religious  faith,  have  no  meaning;  but  with  love  she  can  accomJ 
plish  all  things  without  so  much  as  a  thought  of  duty,  or 
obligation,  or  punishment,  or  reward,  simply  because  it  is 
love.  Would  you  condemn  me  to  live  without  love  all  my 
life  ?  A  woman  might  resign  herself  to  living  without  being 
loved,  but  never  to  living  without  loving.  How  .would  it  be 
possible  to  live  ?  I  could  have  done  my  duty  by  the  Prince 
as  his  wife  if  he  had  not  loved  me;  but  that  was  not  his 
only  fault.  He  is  a  gross,  contemptible  person,  as  you  know, 
incapable  of  inspiring  one  single  regret,  not  even  pity,  which 
is  the  last  refuge  of  the  heart  that  struggles  to  maintain  a 
show  of  love  when  love  itself  is  gone. 


34  PRINCESS   BEBÉ  act  i 

Baroness.  True,  Your  Majesty !  True,  and  we  know  it. 
Poor  dear ! 

Emperor.  Baroness,  I  shall  have  a  word  with  you  later. 
It  was  a  happy  thought  to  attach  you  to  the  Princess  Helena. 
You  have  been  zealous  in  the  cause  of  decorum. 

Baroness.  Your  Majesty ! 

Emperor.  I  should  have  inquired  into  your  past  history 
more  fully. 

Baroness.  Your  Majesty!  Your  Highness!  I  protest; 
I  cannot  submit  to  this.  I  am  insulted,  outraged,  yet  I  am 
unable  to  defend  myself,  because  you  are  Emperor.  Such 
an  insinuation  is  unworthy  of  you.  You  insult  the  Baroness 
von  Rosenberg ! 

Princess  Helena.  Not  so  loud. — Your  Majesty  is  severe 
with  the  poor  Baroness. 

Baroness.  The  accusation  is  horrible — atrocious!  Is 
this  the  reward  of  years  of  faithful  service  ?  I  have  sacrificed 
my  life  to  Your  Majesty.  Her  Highness  is  at  liberty  to  re- 
peat the  advice  which  I  have  given  her.  No  doubt  Her 
Highness  has  made  mistakes,  she  may  have  committed  in- 
discretions even,  which  I  regret,  but  you  have  no  idea  what 
she  might  have  committed  had  I  not  been  present  to  prevent 
her.  She  would  have  eloped  two  months  before  she  did,  if  it 
had  not  been  for  me. 

Emperor.  Have  we  gained  anything,  in  your  judgment, 
by  the  delay  ? 

Baroness.  I  appeal  to  Her  Highness.  Naturally,  I  sym- 
pathized with  her  desire  for  a  divorce,  but  in  her  love-affair 
with  Herr  Rosmer  I  have  been  her  most  consistent,  her  most 
vigorous  opponent. 

Emperor.  Probably  that  explains  how  it  was  that  they 
met  at  your  house. 


ACT  I  PRINCESS   BEBÉ  35 

Baroness.  It  was  already  too  late  at  the  time,  Your 
Majesty,  if  an  open  scandal  was  to  be  avoided. 

Emperor.  But  the  flight?  Who  promoted  it? — a  fitting 
end  to  the  adventure ! 

Baroness.  The  Princess  threatened  suicide,  and  I  was 
confident  that  she  was  irresponsible.  How  shall  I  convince 
Your  Majesty  ?    I  adore  the  Princess. 

Princess  Helena.  Baroness,  I  shall  be  grateful  to  you 
forever. 

Baroness.  I  have  been  insulted,  I  have  lost  the  favor  of 
the  Emperor,  the  honor  of  a  Rosenberg  has  been  called  in 
question!  The  Emperor  reflects  upon  my  past — my  past, 
which  was  exemplary  in  virtue.  I  throw  myself  upon  Your 
Highness  for  consolation,  my  Princess  whom  I  adore ! 

Princess  Helena.  I  shall  never  desert  you.  Baroness,  my 
heart,  my  life,  my  soul ! 

Emperor.  This  is  too  much,  upon  my  honor!  Baroness, 
you  are  insufferable.  Never  appear  again  at  Court,  no  matter 
what  the  provocation. — ^Let  us  have  done  once  for  all.  I 
assume  that  your  excuses  are  identical  with  your  cousin's, 
who  is  another  hero  of  love  romance.  Apparently  you  have 
very  little  faith  in  love  as  the  ideal  road  to  happiness,  since 
you  desire  to  have  your  allowance  as  Princess  continued  as 
well.     Am  I  right? 

Princess  Helena.  You  insult  me.  I  merely  ask  that  you 
grant  my  application  for  a  divorce,  so  that  I  may  dispose  of 
my  hand  freely,  as  my  heart  dictates. 

Emperor.  After  running  away?  What  good  would  that 
do  you?  Marriage  with  Herr  Rosmer,  as  a  corespondent, 
would  be  extra-legal,  to  say  the  least. 

Princess  Helena.  I  am  unable  to  see  it.  Herr  Rosmer 
travelled  with  me;  it  was  his  duty  as  the  Prince's  secretary. 


36  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  i 

I  was  not  in  love  with  him  at  the  time;  the  Baroness  will  tell 
you  so. 

Baroness.  Upon  the  honor  of  my  ancestors ! 

Emperor.  Baroness,  I  remain  unconvinceTi.  An  end  to  this 
nonsense.  The  scandal  which  you  have  created  throughout 
the  civilized  world  by  your  conduct,  the  indelible  blot  which 
it  has  cast  upon  the  good  name  of  our  house,  not  to  speak  of 
the  moral  and  political  disorders  which  your  escapades  have  j 
encouraged  in  the  Empire,  deserve  punishment  which  shall; 
be  exemplary.  Princess  Helena,  there  is  one  way  in  which' 
you  may  obtain  pardon,  and  only  one — indeed,  in  some  mea- 
sure it  may  be  said  to  justify  it — you  may  have  yourself 
declared  insane,  and  submit  to  confinement  in  one  of  the  royal 
residences  for  an  indefinite  period,  dependent  upon  your  good 
sense  and  deportment.  * 

Princess  Helena.  Thanks.    If  I  am  guilty,  I  prefer  to 
be  responsible  for  my  acts.     Have  you  no  saner  suggestion 
for  my  reformation  .?>    Frankly,  I  fail  to  appreciate  your  so-  Í 
licitude  for  the  family  honor.    The  Empire  would  feel  itself  far  I 
more  secure,  in  my  opinion,  if  it  were  to  believe  that  we  were  \ 
capable  of  falling  in  love  in  our  right  minds,  than  if  it  were  to    ' 
get  the  idea  that  we  are  all  of  us  such  crazy  imbeciles  that   j 
we  are  incapable  of  anything.    If  you  once  begin  to  declafe 
members  of  our  family  insane,  you  will  have  occupation  to 
last  you  for  the  rest  of  your  life.    It  will  be  a  sorry  outlook 
for  the  nation  to  find  itself  governed  by  a  family  in  which 
there  are  so  many  persons  without  sense. 

Emperor.  Is  this  a  joke  ?    Are  you  laughing  at  me  ? 

Princess  Helena.  No,  I  am  not  laughing.  I  realize  now 
that  it  was  a  mistake  for  me  to  throw  myself  upon  the  mercy 
of  a  man  who  never  had  any. 

Emperor.  Outrageous  insolence !  Out  of  my  sight !  You 
are  banished  from  Suavia ! 

# 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  37 

Princess  Helena.  Yes,  we  are  banished  because  we  live 
our  own  lives  in  the  sincerity  of  our  affections,  because  we  re- 
fuse to  learn  hypocrisy  of  you  and  of  the  Princes  you  tolerate 
about  your  throne,  and  who  are  worthy  of  it,  because  they 
maintain  a  hollow  pretense  of  love  and  respect  for  what  no-j 
body  any  longer  either  loves  or  respects.  Prince  Michael 
may  remain  at  Court  in  the  enjoyment  of  all  his  dignities; 
he  will  never  marry  an  actress  like  Prince  Stephen,  because 
he  is  provided  with  three  or  four  of  them  already;  Princess 
Leonora  may  remain — she  will  not  hear  of  a  divorce;  nothing 
is  so  convenient  as  a  husband  to  cover  up  her  antipathy  to 
marriage;  Princess  Clothilda  may  remain,  who  never  al- 
lowed her  husband  to  interfere  with  her.  They  are  virtuous 
officially,  they  neither  shock  nor  jeopardize  the  security  of 
the  Empire !  I  am  not  built  that  way.  You  are  right;  I  was 
a  fool  to  appeal  to  you  and  your  laws,  when  all  I  had  to  do 
was  to  satisfy  my  own  conscience.  Could  anything  be  more 
ridiculous  ?  Why  appeal  to  others  for  what  we  have  airead 
in  ourselves?  Why  revolutionize  the  world  when  it  is 
easy  to  revolutionize  our  own  consciences  ?  From  this  ho 
forth,  I  give  you  warning:  I,  Princess  Helena,  have  become 
a  ferocious  anarchist.  The  world,  your  Empire,  your  pre- 
cious society,  the  whole  of  it,  with  its  laws,  its  morality  and 
its  lies — well,  you  can  have  it,  it  is  good  enough  for  you;  let 
it  remain  as  it  is;  there  are  people  who  do  not  know  how  to 
live  in  any  other  way — but  I  tell  you  that  a  bomb  has  burst 
in  my  heart,  in  my  life,  that  has  blown  into  a  thousand 
fragments  all  this  world,  with  its  laws  and  its  lieá!  Let/ 
me  out.  Baroness.     Follow  me! 

Princess  Helena  and  the  Baroness  sweep  out. 
MPEROR.  I  am  dizzy — my  head  goes  roimd.    Give  me  air ! 

Chancellor.  Your  Majesty 

Emperor.  Prince    Stephen    and    Princess    Helena    leave 


i^A 


38  PRINCESS   BEBÉ  act  i 

Suavia  this  very  day  without  respite  of  one  ñour  at  Court 
upon  any  pretext  whatsoever.  The  Crown  Council  which 
was  set  for  this  afternoon  is  suspended.  Was  there  business 
of  importance  to  attend  to  ? 

Chancellor.  The  new  law  of  Social  Reform. 

Emperor.  A  proper  occasion  for  its  promulgation !  Are 
we  to  become  public  laughing-stocks  ?  Shall  I  pretend  to  re- 
form society  when  my  own  house,  my  own  family,  are  in  the 
state  which  all  the  world  sees  ?    Is  there  anything  else  ?  y 

Chancellor.  Nothing  of  importance.  Oh,  your  signature 
to  a  decree  conferring  a  pension  upon  our  national  poet. 

Emperor.  National  poet?  Poets,  philosophers,  authors 
are  to  blame!  They  unsettle  men's  minds,  they  turn  the 
world  upside  down.  Undisciplined  fools — madmen,  all  of 
them !  Do  not  talk  to  me  about  poets.  Ah !  By  the  way, 
that  student's  song  about  the  Princess,  her  amours ....  Bet- 
ter suppress  it.  Do  you  happen  to  have  heard  it  by  any 
chance.^    What  does  it  say? 

Chancellor.  I  don't  remember;  it  has  no  merit.  It  ad- 
vises the  Princess  to  forsake  the  Court  and  courtiers,  and  de- 
vote her  attention  to  students  and  true  lovers — to  form  a 
court  of  love.     There  is  nothing  in  it. 

Emperor.  Certainly  not.    What  does  it  say  about  me? 

Chancellor.  Nothing  that  I  recall.  Ah,  yes!  there  is 
a  refrain : 

"Little  dove. 
What  does  the  Emperor  know  about  love?" 

Emperor. 

"What  does  the  Emperor  know  about  love?" 

Good!  That  will  do  for  to-day;  you  may  retire.  I  need 
rest,  to  recuperate ....  Keep  close  watch  on  the  press.  It 
has  been  allowed  too  much  liberty  of  late. 


ACT  I  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  39 

Chancellor.  We  have  taken  proper  precautions  already. 
Your  Majesty  may  repose.    Rest  in  peace. 
Emperor.  Good !    Good  night. 
The  Chancellor  goes  out. 
Emperor. 

"Little  dove. 
What  does  the  Emperor  know  about  love?'* 

Curtain 


CHARACTERS    APPEARING    IN    THE 
SECOND    ACT 

Prince  Stephen 

Princess  Helena 

CoMTEssE  Diana  de  Lts 

Elsa  Konigsberg 

The  Baroness  von  Rosenberg 

comte  de  tournerelles 

Herr  Albert  Rosmer 

M.  DE  Chantel 

Conductor  Wulf 

Mme.  Clemencia  Wilf 

Gottfried  Wilf 

The  Queen  of  Sheba 

The  Duchessa  d'Arcole 

Ladies,  Gentlemen,  and  Attendants 


THE    SECOND    ACT 

Grand  Hall  in  the  Casino  of  a  winter  resort  upon  the  Riviera, 
situated  upon  the  border  between  Italy  and  France. 

Diana  de  Lys  is  greeting  the  Queen  op  Sheba.  Visitors  and 
attendants  in  the  background. 

Diana.  Of  course  it  is  chance,  but  the  same  thing  has  hap- 
pened two  years  in  succession.  As  I  was  beginning  to  win, 
I  saw  you.  It  is  the  first  time  that  anything  has  come  my 
way  this  season.    Did  you  run  down  from  Paris  ? 

Queen.  Jaunting  around. 

Diana.  When  did  you  arrive  .í*  I  always  look  over  the 
lists. 

Queen.  Since  my  hit  in  the  pantomime  "  The  Queen  of 
Sheba,"  at  the  Olympia  last  winter,  I  have  changed  my  name. 
You  were  in  Italy  at  the  time;  it  was  a  popular  departure, 
fully  equal  to  your  sensation  in  "Le  Bain  de  la  Parisienne,'* 
only  mine  was  more  fully  undress,  especially  at  the  end  before 
Solomon.    That  rascally  Flo-Flo  invented  a  light  effect 

Diana.  I  should  have  returned  from  Italy  if  I  had  known 
it.    How  were  the  notices  ? 

Queen.  Wonderful!  Lorraine  wrote  me  two  columns  of 
insults;  I  can  never  thank  him  enough.  Since  then  nobody 
thinks  of  me  but  as  the  Queen  of  Sheba. 

Diana.  I  seem  to  recall  the  name;  I  wondered  who  that 
new  one  could  be. 

Queen.  Well,  it  was  I;  only  ft  was  nothing  new. 

Diana.  Are  you  alone  ? 

41 


42  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

Queen.  Yes,  this  is  a  pleasure  trip.  How  are  you  getting 
on?  Are  you  still  with  the  Comte?  What  million  is  he  in 
now  ?    In  Paris,  the  report  is  that  he  is  down  to  his  last. 

Diana.  Very  likely,  at  the  rate  he  is  going.  If  he  spent  it 
on  himself,  it  would  not  be  so  bad;  but  the  trouble  is  he  likes 
to  see  it  spent. 

Queen.  As  blase  as  ever,  I  suppose  ? 

Diana.  He  has  reached  the  limit.  Nothing  excites  or  stirs 
his  interest  in  the  least.  Everybody  here  lives  off  him,  in- 
cluding his  secretary,  Chantel. 

Queen.  I  remember  that  fellow.     He  is  clever. 

Diana.  No  more  than  the  rest.  The  Comte  buys  carriages 
and  automobiles  which  he  never  even  sees;  his  friends  and  his 
friends'  friends  ride  in  them  and  show  themselves  off.  He 
deals  out  thousand-franc  notes  by  the  handful,  so  that  others 
can  play,  who  lose,  naturally.  He  never  goes  near  a  table 
himself.  If  you  tell  him  that  a  play  is  good,  he  sends  his 
friends,  and  then  forbids  them  to  mention  it  afterward.  At 
one  time  dress  was  his  hobby,  but  now  he  leaves  all  that  sort 
of  thing  to  his  secretary. 

Queen.  Has  he  slipped  you  along,  too,  to  the  secretary? 

Diana.  No,  he  still  loves  me.  I  am  the  only  person  who 
can  do  anything  with  him,  as  you  will  discover  when  we  re- 
turn to  Paris;  I  shall  be  Comtesse  de  Tournerelles.  I  should 
like  to  see  more  of  you  here,  very  naturally,  but  my  friends 
are  rather  select;  I  cannot  afford  to  take  any  chances. 

Queen.  Who  are  your  friends  ? 

Diana.  My  dear,  with  art  and  religion  a  woman  enters 
any  society.  Christians  and  artists  will  receive  anybody,  and 
thank  you  for  the  opportunity.  Although  one  must  be  a 
little  discreet,  and  careful  to  keep  up  appearances. 

Queen.  So  you  have  gone  in  for  religion  ? 

Diana.  No,  I  am  reserving  that  for  my  old  age;  for  the 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  43 

present  I  get  on  with  art.  I  belong  to  a  musical  coterie;  we 
adore  music — Wilf's  music.  What  music!  I  suppose  you 
never  heard  of  Wilf .?  He  is  scarcely  in  your  line.  He  was 
an  extraordinary  genius  who  died  in  a  madhouse,  raving, 
because  nobody  appreciated  his  music.  After  his  death,  his 
widow,  Mme.  Clemencia  Wilf,  and  his  son  Gottfried 

Queen.  What  a  horrible  name ! 

Diana.  The  title  of  a  symphonic  poem  by  his  father.  The 
son  and  widow,  together  with  a  little  group  of  enthusiasts, 
made  up  their  minds  that  Wilf's  music  should  be  admired  and 
appreciated  by  everybody,  so  they  organized  a  company  and 
began  giving  concerts,  some  of  them  conducted  by  Wulf — 
have  you  never  heard  of  Wulf? — others  by  Gottfried  Wilf. 
Nobody  paid  any  attention  at  first;  some  even  went  so  far 
as  to  throw  potatoes;  but,  little  by  little,  a  change  for  the 
better  set  in,  and  soon  all  fell  at  the  feet  of  Mme.  Wilf.  Peo- 
ple lost  their  heads,  the  number  of  admirers  increased 

Queen.  And  you  lost  yours,  too — I  can  see  it. 

Diana.  Nonsense !  Nobody  was  fooled,  except  a  few  ear- 
nest admirers,  who  are  necessary  in  any  business.  However, 
the  widow,  the  son  and  the  conductor,  not  to  speak  of  the 
musicians,  understand  perfectly  how  to  take  advantage  of 
persons  who  are  perfectly  willing  to  be  taken  advantage  of, 
so  long  as  they  appear  superior  to  others  who  do  not  under- 
stand and  appreciate  the  music  of  Wilf.  Some  very  distin- 
guished names  occurred  on  the  list,  so  I  exerted  my  influence 
with  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles  to  have  him  take  stock  in  the 
Wilf  and  Wulf  Concerts  Company.  The  other  shareholders 
welcomed  me  with  open  arms.  Much  was  forgiven,  because 
I  had  loved  much — the  music  of  Wilf,  their  idol.  Now  I 
belong  to  the  smart  set,  I  associate  with  people  who  are 
chic,  with  princesses,  the  nobility,  with  great  artists.  I  am 
preparing  my  entree  to  the  fashionable  circles  of  Paris  this 


44  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

winter  upon  the  arm  of  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles  and  the 
wings  of  Wilf's  music.  You  cannot  tell  me  anything  about 
art,  my  old  partner. 

Queen.  It  takes  my  breath  away.  If  you  had  been  a 
man,  you  could  have  gone  anywhere.  *" 

Diana.  The  one  thing  I  have  never  wanted  to  be  is  a  man. 
Pardon,  some  friends  of  my  group ....  We  shall  see  more  of 
each  other  again. 

Queen.  You  have  not  told  me  who  is  here  yet. 

Diana.  It  is  awfully  dull.  No  one  does  anything  any  more; 
everybody  comes  for  some  purpose.  I  never  saw  it  so  stupid 
before  carnival.  La  Zaragoza,  the  Spanish  dancer,  is  the 
only  woman  who  is  enjoying  herself;  it  is  the  same  with  her 
everywhere. 

Queen.  Is  that  wild  beast  in  town?  I  should  not  have 
come  if  I  had  known  it.  We  had  a  fight  at  Trouville  last 
summer,  right  out  in  the  middle  of  the  Casino.  They  called 
the  bets  off  on  both  sides  when  they  stopped  us. 

Diana.  I  might  be  interested  later.  Good  luck,  until  next 
time. 

Queen.  Au  revoir,  Comtesse.  [Goes  out. 

k^y^  Mme.  Wilf,  Wulf,  Wilf,  Elsa  Konigsberg,  and  the 
Duchessa  d'Arcole  enter. 

Diana.  Is  the  opera  over? 

Mme.  Wilf.  We  were  able  to  endure  only  the  first  two 
acts,  out  of  sympathy  for  the  artists.  Opera  ?  Imagine  call- 
ing such  a  thing  opera ! 

Wulf.  Mankind  has  suffered  a  long  time  under  the  im- 
position. 

Wilf.  Yet  there  are  persons  who  sit  there  and  actually 
listen  to  it  as  if  it  were  music. 

Elsa.  The  Comtesse  displayed  rare  taste  in  declining  to 
accompany  us. 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  45 

Diana.  Although  I  should  not  have  hesitated  if  it  had  not 
been  for  the  music.  I  met  an  old  school  friend  on  my  way 
to  the  opera-house;  we  could  not  resist  stopping  and  recall- 
ing old  times.     Does  the  Prince  join  us  this  evening  ? 

Elsa.  The  Prince  had  the  bad  taste  to  sit  out  the  opera. 

Diana.  Well,  is  there  any  news.?*  Has  the  concert  been 
arranged  ?    Has  the  Casino  accepted  our  proposition  ? 

WiLF.  It  has  in  the  abstract;  we  have  only  to  discuss  the 
details.    We  anticipate  a  great  sensation. 

Elsa.  I  am  charmed  with  your  programme. 

WiLF.  As  the  audience  will  be  intelligent,  we  need  scarcely 
give  that  feature  consideration. 

WuLF.  It  comes  fully  prepared. 

Mme.  Wilf.  It  is  no  longer  a  question  of  initiating  a  brood 
of  neophytes,  but  of  appealing  to  a  chosen  circle  of  the  élite, 
who  are  already  believers. 

Wilf.  You  will  realize  that  you  have  never  before  lis- 
tened to  music.  We  shall  play  the  three  great  symphonic 
poems:  "The  Slumber  Poem,"  "The  Poem  of  the  Idea,"  and 
"The  Poem  of  Silence." 

Mme.  Wilf.  On  the  whole  I  consider  the  last  the  greatest 
work  of  Wilf. 

WuLF.  Nobody  has  been  able  to  understand  it  as  yet. 

Wilf.  It  ceases  to  be  what  it  is  the  moment  that  it  is  un- 
derstood. 

Mme.  Wilf.  It  had  only  one  performance  in  London,  but 
five  ladies  fainted.  Two  of  the  first  violins  committed  suicide 
a  week  after  taking  part  in  the  concert. 

Wulf.  I  never  conduct  the  work  without — shall  I  say  re- 
ligious ? — preparation.  I  confine  myself  to  my  rooms  during 
the  week  preceding  the  concert;  I  speak  to  no  one — I  bury 
myself  in  the  rare,  the  divine  pages  bequeathed  to  us  by  the 
Master.     I  receive  whatever  food  is  necessary  in  order  to 


46  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  actii 

support  the  ordeal,  and  at  last  rise  to  a  state  of  mystic  ex- 
altation, without  which  it  is  idle  to  aspire  to  a  proper  inter- 
pretation of  the  sublime  masterpiece.  After  the  concert  is 
over,  Mme.  Wilf  will  tell  you  the  condition  I  am  in. 

Mme.  Wilf.  Unfortunately."  We  apply  a  cold  compress, 
and  bring  him  to  with  a  strong  punch,  reinforced  with  rum. 
It  is  a  work  which  can  be  performed  safely  only  now  and 
then.    My  son  is  not  able  to  conduct  it  as  yet. 

Wilf.  Although  I  have  studied  since  the  age  of  six.  My 
interpretation  differs  radically  from  that  of  Herr  Wulf. 

WuLF.  But  you  are  not  able  to  justify  your  readings.  For 
example,  why  should  the  second  movement  of  "The  Poem  of 
the  Idea"  be  lento,  while  you  take  "Silence"  vivace f  The 
ideal  interpretation  would  be  one  in  which  "Silence"  was 
not  heard  at  all,  while  the  "Idea"  should  be  passed  over  as 
rapidly  as  possible,  with  the  swiftness  of  thought.  I  hope 
and  pray  to  find  an  orchestra  some  day  which  is  capable  of 
catching  the  idea. 

Mme.  Wilf.  Fascinating,  is  it  not.?^  What  does  Your 
Highness  think  ?  What  do  you  think,  Comtesse  ?  And  you, 
too,  Duchessa.'^ 

DucHEssA.  [Reviving]  Ah !    I  beg  your  pardon .... 

Diana.  The  Duchessa  is  still  at  the  Italian  opera. 

DucHESSA.  No,  it  is  difficult  to  acquire  new  tastes  at  my 
age.  Nothing  appeals  to  me  so  much  as  "La  Sonnambula." 
As  a  concert  number,  give  me  "La  Mandolinata." 

Diana.  Oh,  Duchessa ! 

Duchessa.  [Aside  to  Diana]  Nonsense !  I  know  good  music 
when  I  hear  it — and  good  society. 

Diana.  Dissimulate. 

Duchessa.  Yes,  if  we  are  to  continue  good  friends. 

Diana.  Hush !    They  may  hear  us. 

Duchessa.  What  if  they  do  ?    They  are  no  better  than  we 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  47 

are;  we  are  all  playing  a  part.  This  Princess  is  not  a  princessk 
you  are  not  a  countess,  and  I  am  not  a  duchess.  The  widow) 
of  that  musician  is  probably  not  a  widow,  if  you  care  to  look; 
into  it,  nor  is  her  husband's  music  music  if  it  comes  to  be 
heard.  We  all  know  what  we  are  doing  here,  and  the 
best  thing  that  others  can  do  is  to  seem  not  to  know  any- 
thing. 

Diana.  Duchessa !    You  surprise  me. 

DucHEssA.  Not  much.  We  both  of  us  know  a  good  time 
when  we  see  one,  and  we  have  seen  our  good  times,  too,  but 
not  this  season. 

Diana.  We  were  young  and  thoughtless  then;  we  have 
had  leisure  since  to  meditate. 

Duchessa.  It  is  beyond  me  how  you  can  put  up  with  that 
Princess,  who  only  two  months  ago  was  singing  in  operetta. 
I  have  heard  all  she  knows  on  a  hand-organ.  Now  it  ap- 
pears she  is  not  only  an  artist,  she  is  a  great  lady. 

Diana.  I  shall  give  myself  away  if  you  make  me  laugh. 
[Aloud]  The  Duchessa  confesses  the  superiority  of  the  new 
music.    At  bottom,  it  is  the  only  music. 

Duchessa.  It  is  at  bottom.  I  feel  it;  I  understand  it. 
Although —  [Humming.  A  patise]  Undeniably  that  is  beau- 
tiful; it  always  makes  me  cry. 

Elsa.  Why,  Duchessa ! 

Duchessa.  However,  when  we  complete  our  temple,  our 
Bayreuth 

WuLF.  Ah!  Our  Bayreuth?  Bayreuth  is  another  tra- 
dition which  is  doomed  presently  to  disappear. 

Mme.  Wilf.  Although  we  must  concede  Wagner  some 
merit.     He  was  a  timid  precursor. 

WuLF.  Who  had  his  successes;  but  compared  with  our 
temple,  our  vast  concert-hall,  upon  a  mountain-top,  beside 
the  sea — it  should  be  on  an  island,  if  possible 


48^  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

WiLF.  Where  there  will  be  ample  space  for  all  the  dev- 
otees to  assemble  once  a  year. 

WuLF.  As  we  hope  and  believe,  our  dream  is  about  to  be 
realized. 

Mme.  Wilf.  We  have  unlimited  capital  for  its  construc- 
tion. 

WiLF.  Not  only  for  the  temple,  but  for  hotels  and  res- 
taurants, and  whatever  else  may  be  necessary. 

WuLF.  We  anticipate  a  great  rush. 

Mme.  Wilf.  Probably;  although  it  is  a  phase  we  prefer 
not  to  dwell  on.    We  are  thinking  only  of  him. 

WuLF.  Not  of  him — of  it — it,  his  idea.  Rather  than  of 
what  he  did,  we  prefer  to  think  of  what  he  might  have  done. 

Mme.  Wilf.  To  it — it,  his  ideal  idea ! 

DucHESSA.  [Aside  to  Diana]  If  these  people  are  not  mak- 
ing money  out  of  this,  then  they  are  the  greatest  fools  I  ever 
heard  of. 
^-^  *  ff^g  CoMTE  DE  TouRNERELLES  and  Chantel  enter. 

CoMTE.  Amusing  mistake,  was  it  not  ?  Suppose  some  gen- 
tleman had  presented  himself  and  had  insisted  upon  a  duel  ? 
In  that  case  it  would  have  been  still  more  amusing. 

Chantel.  If  you  had  fought  him  yourself.  I  approached 
Her  Highness  on  your  behalf,  under  instructions,  as  your 
emissary. 

CoMTE.  At  a  distance,  I  thought  she  was  a  cocotte.  But 
you  should  have  known  better. 

Chantel.  How  was  I  to  tell?  I  thought  the  same  when 
I  got  near.  She  was  sitting  at  one  of  the  tables  playing  trente 
et  guárante.  An  elderly  woman  occupied  the  next  chair,  who 
was  far  from  respectable.  One  played  red,  the  other  black; 
meanwhile  they  bet  on  the  side,  and  laughed  as  they  played. 

CoMTE.  Capital !    What  did  you  do  ? 

Chantel.  I  suggested  a  fresh  combination.     They  were 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  49 

delighted.  You  know — it  never  fails.  They  placed  their 
money  at  my  disposition 

CoMTE.  How  much  of  it  have  you  left.? 

Chantel.  Not  a  souy  I  assure  you;  I  lost  it  all.  The  Prin- 
cess— it  was  then  that  she  turned  out  to  be  a  princess — per- 
sisted in  sliding  her  bare  arm  around  my  shoulder.  I  con- 
fess that  I  was  nervous.  I  pressed  my  foot  against  hers  be- 
neath the  table 

CoMTE.  But  what  did  she  do  ? 

Chantel.  It  wasn't  she,  it  was  the  old  lady.  As  soon  as 
I  recovered  sufficiently,  I  launched  my  proposal — your  pro- 
posal— and  the  Baroness,  whose  title  I  forget,  broke  loose  with 
a  torrent  of  the  most  villainous  abuse,  in  the  course  of  which 
I  discovered  who  the  distinguished  lady  was,  whom  we  had 
misjudged  so  lightly. 

CoMTE.  But  what  did  she  do  ? 

Chantel.  I  cannot  say  that  she  seemed  offended.  She 
stood  up  and  laughed. 

CoMTE.  Encouragement  to  continue.  Who  is  this  Prin- 
cess ?  Not  Princess  Helena  of  Sua  via,  who  eloped  with  her 
husband's  secretary? 

Chantel.  Yes,  and  she  is  here  with  him  now,  waiting  un- 
til the  Emperor  consents  to  a  divorce. 

CoMTE.  A  divorce.?  What  does  she  want  of  a  divorce? 
Not  to  marry  the  secretary?  It  is  unworthy  of  her.  I  am 
attracted  to  that  Princess.  I  might  take  up  the  adventure 
myself  at  the  point  where  you  left  off.  A  princess  is  de- 
serving of  some  attention. 

Chantel.  Funds  are  running  low.  I  understand  that  the 
happy  couple  are  negotiating  a  loan,  regardless  of  cost.  The 
Emperor  is  starving  them  out — siege  and  famine.  The 
Prince  Consort  announces  that  he  will  no  longer  be  responsi- 
ble for  the  debts  of  his  wife,  the  other  relatives  withhold 


50  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

their  support  so  as  not  to  fall  into  the  Emperor's  bad 
graces,  trente  et  guárante  fails  to  prove  more  propitious 

CoMTE.  Good !  Keep  me  advised  of  further  progress.  I 
shall  introduce  myself  to  the  Princess  to  apologize  for  my 
secretary. 

Chantel.  Thanks. 
•  CoMTE.  Wilf*s  music  will  furnish  an  excuse  for  a  concert 
at  my  villa,  to  which  I  may  invite  Her  Highness. 

Chantel.  But  suppose  Diana  becomes  suspicious .'' 

CoMTE.  Diana  has  a  talent  for  becoming  suspicious.  How- 
ever, I  have  promised  to  marry  her,  whatever  happens. 
High  society  will  be  a  good  thing  for  us  both,  and  high  is 
high. 

Chantel.  Yes,  and  it  will  be  high.  By  the  way,  how  much 
do  you  intend  to  subscribe  to  the  Wilf  and  Wulf  Concerts 
Company  for  their  new  theatre  ?  I  am  unable  to  rest;  the 
mere  mention  of  money  makes  those  people  nervous. 

CoMTE.  Five  thousand  francs  more  than  the  largest  sub- 
scriber. 

Chantel.  There  are  subscriptions  for  fabulous  sums. 

CoMTE.  The  fifty  thousand  francs,  which  I  have  promised 
already. 

Chantel.  Ah !    You  have  a  letter La  Zaragoza,  the 

Spanish  dancer,  writes  me — that  is,  she  writes  you — carnival 
is  approaching  and  she  is  anxious  to  make  a  hit  in  the  Battle 
of  Flowers.    She  wishes  to  appear  well  at  the  Casino  dances. 

CoMTE.  Ten  thousand  francs. 

Chantel.  L'Écho  de  la  Cote  d' Azure  publishes  an  article 
by  its  most  distinguished  contributor,  devoted  wholly  to  you. 
He  says 

CoMTE.  Three  thousand  francs. 

Chantel.  Le  Moniteur  du  Grand  Monde  publishes  your 
portrait — with  mine. 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  51 

CoMTE.  Three  thousand  five  hundred. 

Chantel.  I  have  dropped  during  the  week 

CoMTE.  Why  persist  in  these  ridiculous  combinations  ? 

Chantel.  At  what  hour  will  it  be  convenient  for  you  to 
sign  checks  to-morrow  .^^ 

CoMTE.  At  what  hour.?  At  what  hour  will  it  be  con- 
venient for  me  to  sign  checks  .^^  Don't  ask  me  that  ques- 
tion again.  Any  hour  will  be  convenient.  Make  inquiries 
about  the  Princess;  as  a  diversion,  I  find  her  more  interesting. 
I  must  speak  to  these  people. 

Chantel.  Meanwhile  I  shall  resume  my  investigations. 

[Retires, 

Comte.  [Joining  the  group]  Ladies  and  gentlemen .... 
Your  Highness ....     Madame ! 

Mme.  Wilf.  I  believe  that  my  son  has  already  expressed 
our  appreciation  of  your  generous  contribution  to  the 
cause. 

Comte.  Do  not  mention  it  again. 

WuLF.  You  have  the  soul  of  an  artist;  you  comprehend 
our  work  and  its  significance. 

Wilf.  We  hope  to  inscribe  your  name  in  our  temple  as 
patron. 

Diana.  We  plan  to  be  present  each  season. 

Comte.  [Aside]  No !    That  is  too  much. 

Diana.  Silence !    Leave  it  to  me. 

Comte.  Would  it  be  possible  to  arrange  a  little  rehearsal 
at  my  villa,  previous  to  the  public  concert  ?  Your  husband's 
music,  as  it  seems  to  me,  requires  a  select  audience  if  it  is 
to  be  appreciated,  an  atmosphere  of  intimacy,  of  sympathy, 
of.... of.... 

Diana.  Perhaps  we  might  be  able  to  arrange  a  quiet  con- 
cert. 

Wilf.  I  can  see  no  objection  to  that. 


52  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

Mme.  Wilf.  [Aside]  Fifty  thousand  francs  deserves  some 
substantial  recognition. 

WuLF.  Monsieur  le  Comte  need  only  name  the  day,  and 
I  assume  responsibility  for  a  satisfactory  result. 

Elsa.  May  I  volunteer  to  sing  the  lament,  that  marvellous 
passage  ? 

Mme.  Wilf.  Your  Highness !  Is  it  possible  ?  If  you  do, 
it  will  be  the  first  time  that  it  has  been  rendered  by  a  pure 
artist. 

Elsa.  I  shall  bring  to  it  all  the  pathos  of  my  art. 

WuLF.  The  soul  of  the  master  will  rise  in  his  grave  as  you 
sing. 

Mme.  Wilf.  He  will  be  sure  to  hear  you.  We  entertain 
no  shadow  of  doubt. 

Comte.  [Aside  to  Diana]  We  shall  hear  Her  Highness,  too 
— at  less  distance. 

Diana.  It  is  a  far  cry  from  "La  Belle  Héléne"  to  Wilf's 
music. 

Comte.  No  further  than  the  jump  from  stage  princess  to 
princess  in  fact. 

Diana.  Although  double  somersaults  are  less  usual  in 
high  art  than  in  good  society.  Anybody  can  rub  elbows  with 
a  king  or  a  grandee,  but  Shakespeare  and  Beethoven  are 
something  quite  diflPerent.  I  am  not  as  much  of  a  fool  as  you 
think. 

Comte.  You  certainly  are  not. 

Diana.  I  failed  as  an  actress  and  determined  to  be  a  count- 
ess, and  found  that  I  was  built  for  the  part. 

Mme.  Wilf.  As  the  hour  is  late,  we  must  retire.  Gott- 
fried has  still  to  consecrate  the  better  half  of  the  night  to  his 
labors. 

WuLF.  I  also  must  husband  my  energies  for  the  approach- 
ing concert. 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  53 

Els  A.  Apparently  the  Prince  has  endured  the  opera  to  the 
end.    We  had  hoped  to  retire  early  this  evening  ourselves. 

CoMTE.  No,  the  Prince  has  left  the  theatre.  I  saw  him  at 
one  of  the  tables  a  few  moments  ago. 

Elsa.  At  one  of  the  tables  ?    Disgusting ! 

CoMTE.  He  always  becomes  more  animated  about  mid-, 
night. 

Elsa.  Will  you  lead  me  to  him  at  once? 

CoMTE.  With  the  greatest  of  pleasure. 

Mme.  Wilf.  Again  we  say  good  night.  [To  the  Comte] 
Do  not  fail  to  advise  us  so  that  we  may  set  a  date  for. the 
concert. 

Comte.  Oh !    Yes,  indeed !    Delighted Do  you  know, 

it  had  slipped  my  mind  for  the  moment? 

^  All  go  Old. 
v^^rV^   Princess  Helena  and  the  Baroness  von  Rosenberg 
enter. 

Baroness.  Whatever  happens,  I  shall  not  return  to  the 
Casino  again;  responsibility  for  the  future  must  not  rest  upon 
my  shoulders.  I  have  had  enough  of  responsibility — yes,  and 
of  remorse.  I  cannot  sleep;  only  by  the  use  of  morphine  am 
I  able  to  quiet  my  nerves,  but  sleep,  innocent  sleep,  which 
is  the  balm  of  a  quiet  conscience,  has  fled  from  my  eyes  for- 
ever. 

Princess  Helena.  I  hope  you  do  not  imagine  that  I  en- 
joy visiting  the  Casino.  It  did  amuse  me  for  the  first  few 
evenings;  it  was  a  novelty.  I  had  never  seen  anything  but 
those  horrible  functions  at  the  Court  of  Suavia.  I  had  been 
entertained,  it  is  true,  at  one  or  two  casinos  at  the  deadly 
seaside  resorts  of  our  own  country,  which  become  more 
deadly  than  ever  when  a  member  of  the  Imperial  family  is 
present;  but  now  my  curiosity  has  been  satisfied.  I  shall 
never  return  to  the  Casino  again. 


54  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

Baroness.  Where  else  is  there  to  go? 

Princess  Helena.  We  shall  find  some  place  which  is 
more  amusing,  or  more  wicked — which  is  the  same  thing.  I 
have  always  noticed  that  the  places  which  everybody  agrees 
are  wicked,  are  by  far  the  most  amusing.  That  is  the  reason 
I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  hell,  which  certainly  has  the 
worst  reputation,  must  be  extremely  funny. 

Baroness.  Your  Highness!  I  am  shocked  beyond  ex- 
pression. You  have  absolutely  no  idea  of  what  you  are 
talking  about,  and  you  have  not  had  for  some  time. 

Princess  Helena.  Not  since  I  made  up  my  mind  to  say 
what  I  thought  and  do  what  I  pleased.  Is  that  what  you 
wish  to  convey  ? 

Baroness.  Remember  what  happened  to  us  this  evening ! 
A  libertine  has  whispered  phrases  into  m/  ear,  which  I  had 
never  expected  to  hear  from  a  man.  When  he  let  go  my 
hand,  there  was  a  hundred-franc  note  in  it.  And  he  had 
the  impertinence  to  add:  "Fix  it  up  for  me  with  your  young 

friend a  few  moments  of  her  time.'*    I  thought  I  should 

expire  on  the  spot. 

Princess  Helena.  Delicious,  was  it  not  ?  If  I  had  been 
in  your  place,  I  should  have  accepted  the  hundred  francs  and 
have  staked  them  all  on  the  next  deal.  I  am  sure  that  you 
would  have  continued  in  luck. 

Baroness.  Highness!  Speech  fails  me.  I  shall  die  of 
mortification.  The  world  is  on  tiptoe,  waiting  to  see  what 
you  are  going  to  do  next.  They  observe  us  from  Suavia; 
you  may  depend  upon  it,  we  are  watched. 

Princess  Helena.  For  that  reason  I  am  unwilling  to  ap- 
pear sad  or  weary  for  a  single  moment. 

Baroness.  But  you  are,  I  can  see  it,  in  spite  of  yourself. 
Nothing  but  a  quiet  conscience 

Princess  Helena.  Why  harp  so  much  upon  conscience  ? 


ACT  II 


PRINCESS  BEBÉ  55 


Mine  does  not  trouble  me;  it  is  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 
I  have  no  children  to  prejudice  by  my  behavior,  which,  after 
all,  is  the  only  consideration  which  would  have  made  it  in- 
excusable. As  for  my  husband,  I  have  merely  repaid  him — 
without  great  interest — for  the  insolence  and  brutality  with 
which  he  has  treated  me.  I  owe  the  Court  of  Suavia  nothing 
beyond  a  life  of  mortal  stagnation  which  was  one  continual 
abdication  of  my  will,  a  perpetual  act  of  self-suppression.  I 
have  struck  the  balance  and  settled  my  account  with  them 
all.    Now,  I  am  dissatisfied  with  myself. 

Baroness.  In  what  way  ? 

Princess  Helena.  It  is  idle  to  attempt  to  change  our- 
selves when  we  continue  in  the  same  environment.  The  past, 
not  the  future,  governs  the  world.  History,  despised  his- 
tory, tyrannizes  over  the  lives  of  men  as  of  nations.  How 
different  life  would  be  if  it  were  possible  for  us  to  be  born  on 
the  day  when  we  can  first  truly  say  that  our  lives  are  our 
own,  that  we  belong  to  ourselves;  but  we  are  not  even  able 
to  say  that  we  are  born  on  the  first  day  of  our  lives,  we 
have  been  living  for  a  long  time  previously,  from  remote 
antiquity,  in  the  days  that  are  far  off.  Life  is  a  forest  many 
centuries  old,  and  our  souls  are  rooted  in  it  like  centenarian 
trees.  The  wind  rustles  the  branches,  and  we  imagine  that 
we  are  spreading  our  wings  about  to  fly,  to  soar  upward 
into  the  air  and  liberty  and  light. 

Baroness.  All  of  which  is  to  say 

Princess  Helena.  All  of  which  is  to  say  that  I  should 
have  renounced  my  old  life  gladly,  but  absolutely,  altogether. 
Of  what  use  is  it  to  forget  who  I  am,  when  nobody  is  willing 
to  forget  it  around  me?  Everybody  exacts  of  me  the  same 
behavior,  and  treats  me  with  the  same  deference  as  at  the 
Court  of  Suavia;  everybody  does,  and  the  worst  of  all  is  the 
very  person  who  of  all  others  has  most  reason  to  forget  it. 


56  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  n 

When  everybody  from  the  man  who  loves  me,  for  whom  I 
have  renounced  my  rank,  my  position,  without  so  much  as 
one  regret,  down  to  the  humblest  servant  and  the  shop- 
keeper who  waits  upon  me  to  sell  me  some  trinket,  and  the 
beggar  who  follows  me  down  the  street,  when  everybody  in- 
sists upon  reminding  me  that  I  am  Princess  of  Suavia,  neither 
in  my  actions  nor  in  my  appearance  nor  in  my  expenditures 
can  I  cease  to  be  so.  The  honors  which  the  government  of 
Suavia  denies  me  officially,  the  world  returns  to  me  privately, 
for  its  own  advantage.  It  is  utterly  useless  to  say:  "lam 
merely  a  woman,  like  any  other  woman,  who  is  in  love,  who 
wishes  to  be  happy,  to  be  forgotten,  without  being  responsible 
for  her  conduct  to  anybody."  Immediately  the  world  is  up 
in  arms:  "No,  Your  Highness!  It  is  impossible!  To  us 
you  are  always  the  Princess — Princess  Helena  of  Suavia!" 
The  Emperor  assured  me  that  I  had  forfeited  popular  respect 
through  my  foolishness,  but  I  have  never  been  so  much  re- 
spected, nor  treated  with  so  much  consideration,  nor  so  be- 
princessed  as  now.  That  is  why  I  could  not  help  being  pleased 
when  that  roue  took  me  for  a  disreputable  woman,  and  I 
showed  it.  For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  found  out  what  I 
really  looked  like. 

Baroness.  Have  pity  on  my  poor  nerves!  I  never  lis- 
tened to  such  conversation.  Surely  you  did  not  imagine  that 
anybody  was  going  to  forget  who  you  are  ?  If  we  did,  you 
would  be  the  last  person  to  thank  us  for  it.  Being  treated 
like  a  princess  is  not  what  you  object  to;  it  is  the  difficulty 
of  making  both  ends  meet  while  you  submit  to  the  process. 

Princess  Helena.  It  may  be  so.  It  is  impossible  to  con- 
tinue as  we  are  doing  now. 

Baroness.  Although  the  crisis  will  be  a  passing  one.  The 
Emperor  cannot  afford  to  permit  his  niece 

Princess  Helena.  When  it  is  a  question  of  spending 
money,  the  Emperor  cannot  afford  anything. 


ACT  II                    PRINCESS  BEBÉ  57 

Baroness.  In  that  contingency 


Princess  Helena.  I  have  considered  several  alternatives, 
but  Herr  Rosmer  disapproves  of  all  of  them.  They  are  in- 
correct, he  says — beneath  the  dignity  of  a  princess. 

Baroness.  Undoubtedly,  although  the  impropriety  would 
be  merely  a  matter  of  form.  In  the  end  the  Emperor  will  be 
obliged  to  pay.    Of  that  we  may  be  certain. 

Princess  Helena.  I  hope  so,  to  avoid  an  open  scandal. 
The  difficulty  is  that  Albert  is  opposed  to  scandals.  He  be- 
lieves that  the  Emperor  will  consent  to  my  divorce,  and  then 
we  shall  be  able  to  return  to  Suavia  and  live  like  princes. 

Baroness.  I  doubt  it.  The  Emperor  will  never  consent 
that  a  princess  of  Imperial  blood  should  suffer  divorce. 

Princess  Helena.  And  he  is  perfectly  right.  All  divorce 
is  ridiculous.  Besides,  it  destroys  the  only  certainty  which 
there  is  to  marriage — the  certainty  that  you  will  never  be  able 
to  do  it  again.  I  no  longer  give  divorce  a  second  thought; 
it  leads  nowhere.  Suppose  I  were  to  marry  Herr  Rosmer 
now  after  all  this  talk  ?  It  would  be  too  much  like  the  table 
of  errata  at  the  end  of  a  book,  when  you  have  read  the  book. 
It  corrects  nothing  and  recalls  everything. 
-■J .  Chantel  enters. 

Baroness.  Do  you  see?  That  fellow  again.  Move  on. 
He  is  capable 

Princess  Helena.  Let  us  find  out  of  what  he  is  capable. 
Whatever  it  is,  it  will  not  shock  me. 

Chantel.  Baroness  von — von. . . .  Pardon  if  the  title 
escapes  my  mind. 

Baroness.  Von  Rosenberg. 

Chantel.  In  my  confusion,  consequent  upon  my  regret- 
table mistake,  I  neglected  to  offer  my  apologies  as  a  gentle- 
man, to  beg  pardon  of  the  Baroness  and  of  Her  Highness 


58  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

Baroness.  Duchess,  if  you  please.  Her  Highness  is 
travelling  incognito. 

Chantel.  Pardon.  Her  Highness  will  always  be  Her 
Highness  to  me. 

Princess  Helena.  And  to  everybody  else.  It  makes  no 
matter. 

Chantel.  I  might  say  in  my  defense  that  I  approached 
Your  Highness  only  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Comte  de  Tour- 
nerelles,  as  his  private  secretary.  The  Comte  is  somewhat 
near-sighted.    He  supposed 

Princess  Helena.  Quite  naturally.  In  this  cosmopolis 
where  everybody  pretends  to  be  what  they  are  not,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  a  princess  should  be  taken  for  a  cocotte  where 
there  are  so  many  cocottes  who  are  taken  for  princesses. 

Baroness.  Did  you  say  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles  ? 
Not  that  Comte  who  enjoys  the  reputation  for  spending 
money  ?  Why,  they  call  him —  I  beg  your  pardon;  I  forgot 
that  you  were  his  secretary. 

Chantel.  Not  at  all;  it  is  no  secret.  In  Paris  they  dub 
him  the  "Little  Chocolateer,"  as  the  origin  of  his  fortune  was 
in  chocolate.  His  grandfather  arrived  in  Paris  without  a  sou 
to  his  name,  and  established  a  small  factory. 

Princess  Helena.  Needless  to  add  that  he  came  bare- 
foot; it  is  the  legend  of  all  great  fortunes. 

Chantel.  However,  after  living  in  Paris  twenty  years 
conducting  a  modest  factory,  he  branched  out  suddenly  into 
other  lines,  bought  land,  and  commenced  to  build  houses. 

Baroness.  All  of  them  dispensing  chocolate  ? 

Chantel.  Or  with  it,  as  the  case  might  be.  To-day  his 
grandson  is  a  multimillionaire,  and  a  Comte.  He  has  at- 
tracted more  attention  in  Paris,  such  as  it  is,  over  a  longer 
period  of  years,  than  any  other  person  still  living,  except 
Sarah  Bernhardt  and  Otero.    He  sets  the  fashions. 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  59 

Princess  Helena.  Including  those  in  Parisian  beauties, 
according  to  my  information.  Was  not  the  celebrated  Diana 
de  Lys  a  creation  of  his  ? 

Chantel.  Are  you  referring  to  the  Comtesse  Diana  de 
Lys? 

Princess  Helena.  Ah !  So  he  has  also  made  her  Com- 
tesse ? 

Chantel.  She  is  an  extraordinarily  intelligent  woman, 
who  dominates  the  Comte  by  her  ability.  She  is  able  to 
do  with  him  whatever  she  wants,  even  to  the  point  of  mar- 
riage, which  is  exactly  what  she  wants. 

Princess  Helena.  Do  you  know,  this  gossip  interests 
me?    These  people  fight,  they  live 

Chantel.  They  do;  and  you  will  find  plenty  of  them  here. 
No  doubt  Your  Highness's  life  has  been  rather  retired,  as 
unquestionably  is  better  suited  to  the  tastes  of  Your  High- 
ness; it  facilitates  without  attracting  attention.  Did  you 
ever  hear  of  the  Wilf  and  Wulf  Concerts  Company  ? 

Princess  Helena,  What  was  the  name  of  the  company  ? 

Chantel.  A  most  ingenious  device  for  preparing  the 
ground  so  that  one  may  meet  everybody,  whatever  one  may 
have  in  mind,  all  the  while  apparently  in  the  exclusive  pur- 
suit of  art — that  is  to  say,  Wilf 's  music.  An  immense  theatre 
is  to  be  erected — nothing  else  is  mentioned  in  public.  Per- 
haps Your  Highness  would  be  interested  to  attend  a  little 
concert  at  the  Comte's  villa  ?  The  Comte  would  deem  it  a 
great  honor  if  you  would  accept  his  invitation. 

Princess  Helena.  I  should  be  charmed.  You  said,  did 
you  not,  that  the  company  would  be  rather  mixed? 

Baroness.  Highness! 

Chantel.  Oh!  The  guests  will  all  be  distinguished  peo- 
ple. His  Highness,  Prince  Stephen,  has  promised  to  be  pres- 
ent. 


60  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  n 

Prlncess  Helena.  I  am  so  sorry !  I  am  not  on  the  best 
of  terms  with  my  cousin;  I  find  him  entirely  too  serious. 

Baroness.  Your  Highness!  You  cannot  appear  at  a 
function  at  which  Prince  Stephen  is  present.  You  would 
be  obliged  to  meet  his  wife,  la  Konigsberg,  a  comic-opera 
singer. 

Princess  Helena.  Of  course,  in  my  position  I  am 
obliged  to  be  particular.    Baroness,  you  amuse  me. 

Baroness.  Highness,  I  am  deeply  grieved;  I  must  posi- 
tively give  you  up.  You  play  havoc  with  my  most  cherished 
convictions. 

Princess  Helena.  Nonsense !  We  left  our  convictions 
behind  us  when  we  left  Suavia.  Tell  the  Comte  that  I  shall 
be  delighted  to  accept  his  invitation  and  to  attend  his  con- 
cert. 

Baroness.  Oh! 

Chantel.  The  Comte  will  be  greatly  pleased.  I  bow. 
Your  Highness ....  Baroness,  a  word.  A  inoment  with  you 
alone.  ... 

Baroness.  Sir !  Do  you  intend  to  oiler  me  another  hun- 
dred-franc note.'* 

Chantel.  No,  it  is  something  worth  your  while  this  time. 

Baroness.  Sir! 

Chantel.  Don't  be  nervous.  I  am  told  that  Her  High- 
ness is  negotiating  a  loan.  She  has  encountered  difficulties, 
as  the  sum  is  considerable. 

Princess  Helena.  Oh,  Baroness ! 

Baroness.  Just    a    minute.      How  interesting! So 

you  know,  then.^* 

Chantel.  The  Comte  will  be  glad  to  oblige  Her  Highness 
and  to  assist  the  negotiations  by  any  means  in  his  power. 

Baroness.  No,  no!  Impossible!  I  did  not  know  that 
the  Comte  was  in  this  business. 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  61 

Chantel.  It  is  not  business.     Her  Highness's  name  will 
be  sufficient  guarantee.    You  may  say  so  on  behalf  of  the 
Comte.    I  await  Her  Highness's  reply. 
it^v.i^ '  Chantel  retires. 

Princess  Helena.  What  was  your  secret  with  the  sec- 
retary ? 

Baroness.  Most  remarkable!  I  scarcely  know  what  to 
say.  Would  you  believe  it  ?  He  asked  me  to  offer  you  in  the 
name  of  the  Comte  whatever  you  require,  without  any  other 
guarantee  than  your  reputation,  which  to  him  is  sufficient. 

Princess  Helena.  Not  really  ?    We  are  saved ! 

Baroness.  Highness !  I  am  amazed.  Money  offered  in 
this  spirit,  by  a  person  whom  you  have  not  even  met 

Princess  Helena.  By  a  person  who  knows  perfectly  well 
that  sooner  or  later  he  will  have  to  be  repaid.  He  has  suffi- 
cient sense  and  business  acumen  to  realize  that  his  apparent 
confidence  and  disinterestedness  only  place  me  still  more 
deeply  in  his  debt. 

Baroness.  Very  possibly  he  has.  One  must  be  upon  one's 
guard  with  these  parvenus.  How  can  we  tell  but  that  what 
he  really  wishes  is  to  compromise  your  reputation,  so  as  to 
capitalize  it  afterward  in  some  discreditable  enterprise  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Quite  unlikely.  My  personal  influence 
is  no  longer  of  account,  and  I  am  scarcely  in  a  position  to  be- 
tray political  or  financial  secrets.  I  believe  that  the  Comte 
is  merely  anxious  to  pay  handsomely  for  the  luxury  of  pre- 
senting another  Highness  in  his  house,  at  his  entertainments, 
where  the  tone  of  society  is  somewhat  mixed.  My  cousin  is 
certainly  not  on  friendly  terms  with  the  Comte  for  nothing. 
Prince  Stephen's  condition  must  be  far  worse  than  mine  by 
this  time.    He  is  the  person  to  advise  us. .  . . 

Baroness.  The  adventure  is  perilous.  This  Comte,  this 
Comtesse,  that  secretary,  these  musicians,  especially  now 


62  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

that  they  are  associated  with  Prince  Stephen,  and  that  means, 

of  course,  his  wife When  all  is  said  and  done,  the  Court 

of  Suavia  will  overlook  your  separation  from  your  husband 
far  more  readily  than  it  will  condone  the  indecent  marriage 
of  Prince  Stephen. 

Princess  Helena.  That  in  itself  is  sufficient  commentary 
upon  the  moral  status  of  the  Court  of  Suavia.  We  have  ar- 
rived at  an  impasse  at  which  we  cannot  afford  to  be  par- 
ticular. When  one  rises  every  day  to  see  the  sun  shining 
upon  an  income  which  is  adequate  to  one's  needs  and  social 
position,  it  is  all  very  well  to  be  fastidious  in  the  choice  of 
one's  friends,  but  morality  is  like  army  discipline:  it  is  very 
different  in  peace  from  what  it  is  in  time  of  war.  I  am  fight- 
ing now  to  make  my  own  way  in  the  world.  I  have  only  my- 
self to  rely  upon,  and  I  fight  at  a  disadvantage.  Ah !  It  is 
easy  to  rise,  to  force  oneself  up  from  the  depths  through  sheer 
power  of  will,  through  one's  unaided  efforts,  like  this  Com- 
tesse  of  whom  we  have  just  heard  from  the  secretary.  She 
had  no  one  but  herself  to  consider,  there  was  nothing  to  stop 
her.  All  she  had  to  do  was  to  say  to  herself,  "I  want  this," 
and  she  had  it.  But  to  drop  down  from  above,  to  hide  one- 
self, to  disappear,  if  such  a  thing  were  possible,  so  as  to  live  a 
new  life  more  personal,  more  one's  own,  that  is  difficult,  be- 
cause it  is  to  the  interest  of  all  with  whom  we  come  in  con- 
tact not  to  permit  us  to  come  down,  since  their  social  position 
is  dependent  upon  burs,  and  they  live  by  our  lives,  which 
for  that  reason  were  never  ours,  and  it  is  to  their  interest  to 
rise.  However,  you  deceive  yourself  if  you  imagine  that  I 
shall  allow  myself  to  be  restrained  by  any  such  ridiculous 
scruples. 

Baroness.  I  do  not  imagine  that  they  will  interfere  with 
you  in  the  least.  What  a  place  this  world  would  be  if  other 
people  were  to  behave  as  you  do !    It  would  become  an  orgy 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  63 

of  wild  beasts.     If  there  is  no  limit  to  selfishness  merely  be- 
cause we  wish  to  be  happy 

Princess  Helena.  But  there  is  a  limit  to  happiness — it  is 
the  pain  which  we  give  to  others. 

Baroness.  And  do  you  mean  to  say  that  you  have  not 
long  since  passed  that  limit  ?  Consider  how  Their  Majesties 
feel !    How  does  your  husband  feel  ?    Think  of  me ! 

Princess  Helena.  Absurd !  You  do  not  call  that  unhap- 
piness.''  It  is  not  my  idea  of  pain.  What  I  have  offended 
is  merely  vanity,  their  pride,  prejudices  of  rank.  Court  eti- 
quette. No  human  being  has  shed  one  real  tear  because  of 
me.  Anger,  not  sorrow,  is  the  emotion  which  they  feel. 
One  single  tear  in  the  eyes  of  those  who  love  us  deserves  the 
sacrifice  of  all  the  happiness  in  the  world,  but  the  shrieks 
and  yells  of  this  childish  rage,  which  is  neither  sorrow,  nor 
love,  nor  even  genuine  rage,  are  not  worth  the  sacrifice  of 
one  passing  caprice,  much  less  of  the  happiness  which 
might  have  been  ours  in  the  world. 

^  Prince  Stephen  and  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles 
4^'^      enter. 

Prince  Stephen.  If  I  borrowed  of  the  bank,  my  friend, 
it  was  because  the  sum  was  utterly  insignificant.  I  have 
been  playing  in  abominable  luck  this  evening — although  I 
had  a  presentiment  that  my  luck  was  about  to  change. 

Comte.  I  forgive  you  upon  the  understanding  that  this 
evening  is  to  be  an  exception.  Any  reflection  upon  my 
friendship,  I  could  never  forgive. 

Prince  Stephen.  My  dear  Comte,  I  await  a  fitting  op- 
portunity of  demonstrating  my  appreciation  of  your  gener- 
osity and  esteem  fully. 

Comte.  Will  you  be  so  kind  as  to  present  me  to  your 
cousin,  the  Princess  Helena  ?  I  owe  her  an  explanation  and 
an  apology. 


64  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

Prince  Stephen.  With  pleasure — or,  rather,  I  should  do 
so  were  I  certain  of  my  own  reception.  My  relations  with 
Princess  Helena  have  never  been  overcordial,  as  perhaps  you 
know.  Under  different  circumstances,  through  a  coincidence, 
we  encountered  opposition  at  Court  at  the  same  time.  It 
seems  that  the  accident  aggravated  the  condition  of  the 
Emperor,  so  that  if  we  were  not  sympathetic  before,  our  an- 
tipathy has  since  increased  rapidly. 

CoMTE.  I  beg  your  pardon;  I  had  no  idea. . . . 

Pbincess  Helena.  [To  the  Baroness]  Discussion  is  use- 
less.   My  mind  is  made  up.    Do  as  I  tell  you. 

Baroness.  Oh,  for  the  heroic  soul  of  my  ancestors  and  the 
courage  to  oppose  your  wishes !  Think — think  again,  for  the 
last  time ! 

Princess  Helena.  Otherwise  I  shall  speak  to  him  my- 
self. 

Baroness.  No  !    Never  that !    Wait [To  the  Prince] 

Highness ! 

Prince  Stephen.  Eh  ?  Ah,  yes !  My  dear  Baroness !  I 
am  delighted — delighted  and  surprised.  In  fact,  I  scarcely 
expected — certainly  not  before  the  Princess. 

Baroness.  It  was  Her  Highness  who  insisted  upon  my 
speaking  to  you. 

Prince  Stephen.  She  did  ?  It  seems  incredible. — If  you 
do  not  mind ....  one  moment,  my  dear  Comte. 

Comte.  I  retire  in  Her  Highness's  favor.  Apparently  she 
wishes  a  word  with  you. 

Prince  Stephen.  Yes,  wait  outside.  The  introduction 
will  be  possible  very  shortly.  [The  Comte  retires]  Did  you 
say  it  was  she? I  thought  she  avoided  me. 

Baroness.  She  had  the  same  impression  of  Your  Highness. 

Prince  Stephen.  Of  me?  How  could  she?  On  the  con- 
trary      My  dear  cousin ! 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  65 

Princess  Helena.  Why,  cousin !  Really,  have  you  no 
grudge  against  me? 

Prince  Stephen.  I  thought  you  were  avoiding  me. 

Princess  Helena.  A  stupid  misunderstanding  has  ex- 
isted between  us.  Now  we  are  united  by  misfortune.  We 
have  both  been  banished  for  the  same  offense — for  having 
dared  to  declare  the  independence  of  our  hearts. 

Prince  Stephen.  Although  mine  was  already  free. 

Princess  Helena.  Is  that  a  reproach  ?  Mine  was  bound 
to  a  tyrant  whom  another  tyrant  had  imposed.  I  consider 
myself  much  more  heroic  than  you.  You  are  a  Prince  and  I 
a  Princess,  but  you  had  the  advantage  of  being  a  single  man. 
I  had  three  tyrannies  to  overcome — my  rank  as  Princess, 
marriage,  and  the  disability  of  being  a  woman.  I  do  not 
need  to  tell  you  what  a  valiant  spirit  I  had  in  me. 

Prince  Stephen.  No,  indeed.  Your  marriage  was  a  mis- 
take, an  inexplicable  caprice  of  the  Emperor's.  You  must 
have  suffered  tortures.    But  you  are  happy  now,  as  I  am. 

Princess  Helena.  Yes,  very  happy — as  happy  as  you  are. 
This  is  life  at  last,  it  is  liberty,  love,  and  they  are  well  worth 
all  the  sacrifices  which  we  have  made  to  enjoy  them.  For 
my  part,  I  regard  them  as  negligible,  absolutely  negligible. 

Prince  Stephen.  So  do  I,  I  assure  you;  although  it  seems 
hardly  fair  to  ask  those  whom  we  love  to  endure  these  pri- 
vations with  us. 

Princess  Helena.  We  cannot  call  ourselves  rich.  We  ex- 
pect nothing  from  the  Emperor — in  fact,  I  expect  less  than 
you  do.  My  debts  are  already  heavy,  and  my  credit  is  be- 
coming exhausted. 

Prince  Stephen.  Do  not  tell  me. 

Princess  Helena.  It  occurred  to  me,  perhaps,  that  the 
Comte  de  Tournerelles ....     Is  he  a  close  friend  of  yours  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  Of  course;  although  I  should  scarcely 


66  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

presume  to  accept  favors  of  such  a  nature,  in  spite  of  his 
repeated  offers. 

Princess  Helena.  Then  you  are  making  a  great  mis- 
take; everybody  is  convinced  that  you  do.  Nobody  puts  any 
other  interpretation  upon  your  intimacy. 

Prince  Stephen.  The  explanation  is  very  simple.  I 
should  be  intolerably  selfish  if  I  were  to  attempt  to  isolate  poor 
Elsa  altogether,  yet  what  society  is  open  to  us  now  ?  In  this 
democracy  of  money  and  vice,  which  are  the  two  great  democ- 
raftzers,  the  only  possible  selection  lies  among  those  whose 
mofiey  and  vices  are  relieved  by  some  touch  of  imagination, 
soi^e  suggestion  of  art.  The  Comte  is  one  of  these.  Besides, 
he  is  a  thoroughly  fine  fellow,  large-hearted,  incapable  by  na- 
ture of  the  slightest  indelicacy. 

Princess  Helena.  Then  you  beheve  that  he  is  a  person 
who  can  be  relied  upon  thoroughly  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  Beyond  question. 

Princess  Helena.  Naturally  you  are  in  a  position  to  know. 
The  Comte  is  anxious  to  meet  me.  I  trust  that  you  will  ac- 
commodate him  at  the  very  first  opportunity. 

Prince  Stephen.  At  once.  It  will  be  a  great  pleasure  to 
him.    He  tells  me  that  he  owes  you  an  explanation. 

Princess  Helena.  It  is  wholly  unnecessary.  I  shall  be 
enchanted  to  meet  him. 

Prince  Stephen.  Perhaps  he  is  not  far  away. 

[Prince  Stephen  goes  otd. 

Baroness.  Your  Highness!  Your  Highness!  We  totter 
upon  the  verge  of  a  precipice;  I  feel  very  much  as  I  should 
if  I  were  to  discover  you  looping  the  loop.  My  reason  will 
be  unable  to  support  these  terrible  blows.  Who  is  this.'' 
Herr  Rosmer. . . .  Another  calamity!  He  could  not  have 
appeared  at  a  worse  time.  When  he  learns  that  you  have 
spoken  to  your  cousin,  that  he  has  promised  to  present  the 
Comte  de  Tournerelles 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  67 

Princess  Helena.  He  will  be  shocked,  which  is  the  best 
thing  that  he  does.    Let  me  know  when  my  cousin  arrives 
with  tíie  Comte. 
«^"iO^he  Baroness  retires.    Herr  Albert  Rosmer  enters. 

Princess  Helena.  Oh,  Albert!  Where  have  you  been? 
You  have  played  and  lost !  Will  you  never  learn  that  a  man 
cannot  be  lucky  at  everything  ?  Well,  what  are  you  going  to 
do  "^    Smile,  or  wait  for  your  luck  to  change  to  look  pleasant  ? 

Albert.  I  have  not  been  playing  to-night.  I  should  never 
play,  if  I  had  my  way,  nor  should  we  come  to  the  Casino. 
We  should  not  remain  another  day  in  this  place. 

Princess  Helena.  Yes,  I  know  your  love-idyl:  our  hearts 
and  a  cabin.  Unhappy  the  woman  who  is  lured  into  that 
dream !  I  still  remember  the  week  we  spent  in  the  country 
together,  without  seeing  a  soul,  without  another  person  to 
speak  to,  alone  with  our  immense  love.    Who  tired  of  it  first  .f* 

Albert.  It  irritated  me  to  see  how  bored  you  were. 

Princess  Helena.  And  I  suppose  it  bored  me  to  see  you  \ 
having  such  a  good  time  "i  What  is  the  use  of  this  pretense  ? 
We  were  both  bored  horribly.  Love  is  a  beautiful  thing,  no 
doubt  it  is  the  most  beautiful  thing  in  the  world,  but  it  is 
like  the  sun — beautiful  because  it  shines  on  so  much  that  is 
lovely  and  beautiful,  which  appears  more  fascinating  in  its 
light;  the  light  itself  is  not  beautiful.  I  hope  and  pray  that 
our  love  may  always  be  surrounded  by  all  the  lovely  and  beau- 
tiful things  in  the  world. 

Albert.  Yes,  I  seem  to  have  noticed  it.  What  you  want 
is  to  be  happy,  eternally  happy.  Your  idea  of  love  is  having 
nothing  serious  to  think  about. 

Princess  Helena.  If  I  had  thought  seriously  enough  to 
satisfy  your  ideas,  we  should  never  have  loved  each  other, 
nor  should  we  be  living  together  now.  I  adore  happiness 
above  everything  else  in  the  world;  I  have  no  intention  of 
saddening  my  life  by  resignation,  nor  of  renouncing  your 


68  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

love,  nor  of  doing  penance,  either,  because  I  am  yours  and  I 
love  you  so.  Was  it  my  duty  to  sit  still  and  submit  to  having 
my  life  regulated  by  an  Emperor  and  a  Court  which  rep- 
resent nothing  but  tradition  and  antiquity,  in  which  the 
voices  of  the  dead  have  more  influence  than  the  wishes  of 
the  living  ?  No,  I  had  a  heart,  I  had  a  soul,  I  had  my  life 
to  live,  which  was  not  that  life,  and  it  was  my  duty  to  fight, 
to  rebel.  Life  is  either  accepting  the  conditions  and  environ- 
ment in  which  we  find  ourselves,  without  protest,  without 
rebellion,  and  living  on  peacefully  and  quietly,  resigned  to 
our  fate,  as  if  we  were  already  dead — and  in  that  case  it  is 
just  as  well  to  have  all  the  virtues  about  us  like  statues 
on  a  monument — or  otherwise  it  is  protest,  it  is  struggle, 
rebellion  against  the  world,  and  there  is  but  one  virtue  in  a 
rebel,  which  is  courage;  the  others,  no  matter  how  impres- 
sive their  names,  are  nothing  but  ghosts  of  cowardice  and  j 
fear — which  are  all  that  prevent  us  from  running  to  meet» 
happiness  with  a  light  heart,  when  happiness  calls  to  us 
in  our  lives  in  the  name  of  love. 

Albert.  Suppose  happiness  calls  to  you  some  day  in  your 
life  in  the  name  of  love,  and  the  voice  is  not  my  voice  ?  You 
would  not  hesitate,  of  course  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Why  do  you  say  that?  You  have  no 
reason  to  doubt  my  love. 

Albert.  Probably  I  have  no  reason  to  doubt  it  because  you 
fancy  that  you  have  sacrificed  so  much  for  my  sake. 

Princess  Helena.  It  was  no  sacrifice  for  me  to  give  up 
a  life  which  I  loathed  and  despised. 

Albert.  If  it  was  no  sacrifice,  and  you  loathed  and  de- 
spised it  so  utterly,  how  am  I  to  know  but  that  the  desire  to 
escape  from  it  may  not  have  influenced  you  more  than  my 
love  ?  Without  your  being  conscious  of  it,  I  may  have  rep- 
resented this  new  life  in  your  eyes,  a  fresh  environment,  and 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  69 

this  liberty  upon  which  you  plume  yourself,  forgetting  who 
you  are  and  the  respect  which  you  owe  to  your  rank  as 
Princess. 

Princess  Helena.  Oh !  What  is  the  use  of  talking  ? 
Now  you  are  finding  fault  with  me;  it  has  become  a  habit. 
I  might  very  well  doubt  your  love,  since  you  should  have 
warned  me  before  that  I  was  forgetting  who  I  was  and  what 
I  owed  to  myself  as  Princess,  and  not  now  when  it  is  too 
late,  if  all  that  you  saw  in  me  was  Princess  Helena  of 
Sua  via. 

Albert.  You  have  no  right  to  say  such  things;  you  mis- 
judge me.  What  I  wish  is  to  see  you  respected,  to  feel  that 
your  conduct  is  becoming  your  rank  and  position.  I  am 
not  willing  to  have  people  think  that  a  craving  for  low, 
promiscuous  adventure  threw  us  together,  when  it  was  love. 
Besides,  I  am  afraid  that  you  will  be  disillusioned  yourself 
when  you  are  brought  face  to  face  with  the  very  matter-of- 
fact  hardships  to  which  we  shall  presently  be  exposed,  which 
will  appear  intolerable  to  you.  I  do  not  wish  you  to  have 
stooped  so  low  when  that  time  comes,  that  it  will  be  impossi- 
ble to  recover  the  position  which  you  renounced  for  love  of 
me,  as  I  hope  and  believe — for  love  of  me  entirely.  Yes,  is 
it  not  true,  my  Princess  Bebé,  born  into  a  world  into  which 
of  all  others  you  should  never  have  been  born,  to  become  the 
terror  of  the  Court  of  Suavia,  like  a  great,  unruly  boy  in  the 
midst  of  a  den  of  musty  antiquaries,  who  laughs  at  them  and 
rifles  their  hoary  parchments  and  diplomas,  and  overturns 
their  ancient  cabinets  which  are  covered  with  dust  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Yes,  it' is  so  lovely  to  rebel!  It  was 
in  heaven,  next  to  God.  There  was  a  rebel  angel,  even  there, 
who  for  mere  love  of  it,  exchanged  heaven  for  hell. 

Albert.  Exactly,  for  hell.  Now  you  have  said  it.  Per- 
haps you  will  be  mourning  your  lost  paradise  some  day. 


70  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

Princess  Helena.  It  will  only  be  because  I  have  not 
found  what  I  sought.  Through  whose  fault,  I  wonder? 
But  I  shall  not  turn  back,  I  promise  you,  come  what  will ! 

Albert.  Then  you  will  love  me  forever.? 

Princess  Helena.  If  your  love  is  the  love  I  have  hoped 
to  find  in  the  world. 

Albert.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Princess  Helena.  I  have  already  told  you  that  I  shall 
never  turn  back. 

Albert.  Do  you  realize  our  situation  .5^  Look  at  these 
letters. 

Princess  Helena.  Bills  of  course,  creditors,  the  bankers 

close  their  vaults,  a  few  lines  of  friendly  advice I  knew 

it,  I  expected  it. 

Albert.  Hitherto  you  have  merely  renounced  the  disad- 
vantages of  your  rank.  Will  you  be  equal  also  to  renouncing 
its  advantages  ? 

Princess  Helena.  No,  I  shall  renounce  nothing.  I  shall 
fight  for  our  love.  We  need  money  and  I  intend  to  get  it. 
My  cousin.  Prince  Stephen,  has  promised  to  present  the 
Comte  de  Tournerelles. 

Albert.  Have  you  been  talking  with  your  cousin.?^  Will 
you  permit  him  to  present  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles  ?  Do 
you  realize  what  that  implies  socially  ?  You  will  be  obliged 
to  recognize  the  Prince's  wife  and  the  Comte's  mistress,  yes, 
and  their  whole  circle  of  fortune-hunters  and  adventurers. 
No,  no,  it  is  out  of  the  question.  We  are  observed  from  the 
Court  of  Suavia.  If  our  conduct  is  correct  as  befits  our  sta- 
tion, the  Emperor  may  relent,  but  if  we  receive  these  peo- 
ple  

Princess  Helena.  Why  not  acknowledge  at  once  that 
all  your  hopes  are  based  upon  the  Emperor's  consent  to  my 
divorce,  so  that  I  shall  again  become  Princess  of  Suavia,  and 
then  you  will  be  Prince  Consort  at  my  side?     Is  that  it? 


ACT  II  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  71 

Do  you  flatter  yourself  that  any  amount  of  good  behavior, 
or  the  enduring  of  a  thousand  privations,  will  gain  us  th 
favor  of  the  Emperor?    How  silly!    No,  there  is  only  on 
course  to  pursue:   the  Emperor  will  never  yield  except  be-j 
fore  a  scandal,  or  when  the  outcry  of  my  creditors  threatens 
to  make  him  ridiculous. 

Albert.  Are  you  serious  about  accepting  money  from  the 
Comte  de  Tournerelles  ?  Do  you  realize  what  that  involves  ? 
Are  you  crazy  ?  Do  you  know  to  what  you  will  be  commit- 
ting yourself,  what  he  will  undoubtedly  think,  what  he  will 
have  the  impudence  to  expect  of  you  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Nothing  of  the  sort!  He  neither 
thinks  nor  expects  anything.  He  merely  believes  that  he  is 
coming  off  very  cheaply,  entertaining  a  Princess  in  his  house 
at  a  clever  bargain. 

Albert.  Have  you  considered  the  persons  you  will  be 
obliged  to  meet  in  his  house? 

Princess  Helena.  Yes,  I  have;  I  can  imagine  who  they 
will  be.  Men  and  women  with  passions,  with  vices,  with 
interests  and  necessities,  with  flesh  and  blood  and  nerves-/- 
people  who  live,  who  struggle  and  fight  for  their  lives,  who 
love,  hate,  intrigue;  people  who  are  like  everybody  else,  jusi 
the  same  as  you  and  I.  Why  this  insane  desire  to  shut  our^ 
selves  off  from  each  other,  to  ticket  and  classify  ourselves, 
to  create  distinctions  between  us,  and  fancy  that  we  are 
superior  to  our  fellows,  when  we  are  all  equal  and  all  belong 
to  the  same  race,  the  poor,  despised  human  race,  which  spends 
all  its  time  dividing  itself  and  hating  itself  and  marking  it- 
self off  into  classes  and  castes  and  individuals,  when  all  the 
sympathy  and  all  the  love  in  our  hearts  which  might  bind 
us  together  would  be  too  little  even  then  among  so  many  to 
alleviate  the  sorrows  of  life  ? 
^  XÍ. .    The  Baroness  enters. 

Baroness.  Oh,  Your  Highness! His  Highness  and 


72  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

the  Comte ! . . . .  Herr  Rosmer,  has  she  told  you  ?  Have  you 
influence  to  prevent  it?  I  have  letters  from  Suavia  this 
very  day;  they  know,  they  exaggerate.  They  hear  that  we 
are  leading  lives  of  degradation  and  shame,  abandoned  to 
play — a  perpetual  orgy  of  depravity.  Would  you  believe  it  ? 
They  even  say  that  I  have  a  lover !  Only  a  supreme  effort 
sustains  my  shattered  nerves. 

Albert.  Further  struggle  is  useless.  Her  Highness  will 
never  be  influenced  by  any  suggestion  which  may  be  tainted 
with  sense. 

Prince  Stephen,  the  Comte,  Elsa,  and  Diana  enter. 

Prince  Stephen.  Cousin,  may  I  present  the  Comte  de 
Tournerelles  ?  [The  Comtts,  advances. 

Comte.  Highness !  I  owe  you  an  apology  for  a  most  re- 
grettable mistake. 

Elsa.  Stephen!  [Stopping  short,  astonished.  Then  to 
Diana]  Princess  Helena?  Impossible!  Only  yesterday  he 
swore  that  he  would  never  speak  to  her  ^gain.  This  will 
reach  the  ears  of  the  Emperor. 

Princess  Helena.  I  should  like  you  to  meet  Herr  Albert 
Rosmer — if  you  have  no  objection  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  To  what?  In  fact,  we  have  met  be- 
fore.    I  remember  him  very  well. 

Princess  Helena.  Albert,  Prmce  Stephen  wishes  to  speak 
with  you. 

Albert.  Highness ! 

Prince  Stephen.  I  have  frequently  had  the  pleasure  in 
Suavia. 

Princess  Helena.  Now  present  me  to  your  wife.  Do 
you  hesitate  ?    You  have  scruples 

Prince  Stephen.  No,  indeed,  I  assure  you. 

Princess  Helena.  Oh,  then  she  is  the  one  who  has 
scruples  ?    Is  she  as  jealous  of  her  dignity  and  importance  as 


ACTii  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  78 

/ 
Herr  Rosmer?  How  amusing!  We  renounce  our  rank  be/ 
cause  of  them,  and  then  they  oblige  us  with  an  imitation  of  it. 

Prince  Stephen.  It  is  amusing — very.    Elsa .... 

Elsa.  What  are  you  doing  with  Princess  Helena  ?  I  hope 
you  do  not  expect  me  to  speak  to  her. 

Albert.  [To  Helena]  Why  did  you  force  me  to  recog- 
nize the  Prince? 

Prince  Stephen.  How  perfectly  absurd!  She  is  my 
cousin;  besides,  we  are  travelling. 

Elsa.  She  is  with  her  paramour.    A  married  woman ! 

Albert.  I  should  not  have  objected  if  he  had  been  alone, 
but  his  wife  is  with  him.    A  comic-opera  singer ! 

Princess  Helena.  Oh,  this  is  too  much !  What  foolish- 
ness !  I  shall  put  an  end  to  this  nonsense  at  once.  Comte, 
will  you  present  me  to ...  .  ah,  yes !  to  your  fiancee,  the 
Comtesse  Diana  de  Lys  ? 

Comte.  Ah!    Delighted!    Diana 

Diana.  Highness !  This  is  a  great  honor.  It  is  a  tremen- 
dous satisfaction  to  me. 

Albert.  What  are  we  coming  to,  Baroness  ? 

Baroness.  Bromides  have  lost  their  eflFect.  I  shall  be 
obliged  to  get  drunk  or  take  morphine — which  is  a  polite 
method  of  getting  drunk. 

Princess  Helena.  I  am  anticipating  your  concert  with 
great  pleasure. 

Diana.  Are  you  really  coming  ?  Oh,  Highness !  It  is  so 
good  of  you ! 

Comte.  The  honor  will  be  unprecedented  for  us  both. 

Princess  Helena.  Do  present  me  to  my  cousin's  wife, 
if  you  will  be  so  kind.  Apparently  he  is  afraid.  They  are 
disputing  warmly. 

Comte.  Oh,  no!  You  must  be  mistaken,  I  am  sure. 
My  dear.  Princess  Helena  desires  to  meet  you. 


74  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ii 

Prince  Stephen.  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  I  could  not  help 
myself. 

Elsa.  Highness! 

Princess  Helena.  Don't  call  me  Highness;  my  name  is 
Helena.    Why  did  you  object  to  meeting  me .'' 

Elsa.  I?    Who  told  you  so.?' 

Princess  Helena.  Oh,  I  did  not  mind !  We  are  going 
to  become  very  fond  of  each  other. 

Elsa.  Possibly.  Pardon,  I  was  speaking  with  the  Com- 
tesse. ... 

Princess  Helena.  Stephen,  look  at  Herr  Rosmer  and 
your  wife.  They  are  disgusted;  it  mortifies  them  to  see  us 
such  good  friends.  They  are  afraid  that  we  may  forget  our- 
selves and  commit  some  blunder,  or  fail  in  etiquette. 

Prince  Stephen.  I  believe  you  are  right. 

Princess  Helena.  They  deserve — well,  they  do  deserve 
it 

Prince  Stephen.  What  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Nothing !  Was  it  worth  while  to  defy 
the  world  and  to  revolutionize  our  hearts  just  for  this  ?  They 
deserve  to  have  us  remember  who  we  are,  since  they  are  not 
able  to  forget  it. 

Curtain 


CHARACTERS    APPEARING    IN    THE 
THIRD    ACT 

Prince  Stephen 

Princess  Helena 

CoMTESSE  Diana  de  Lys 

Elsa  Konigsberg 

The  Baroness  von  Rosenberg 

COMTE  de    ToURNERELLES 

Herr  Albert  Rosmer 
M.  DE  Chantel 
Conductor  Wulf 
Mme.  Clemencia  Wilf 
Gottfried  Wilf 
The  Duchessa  d' Arcóle 
Guests  and  Attendants 


THE    THIRD    ACT 

Foyer  in  the  villa  of  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles. 
Princess  Helena  and  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles  in  con- 
versation. 

Comte.  To  be  perfectly  frank,  my  dear — I  beg  your  par- 
don. Your  Highness 

Princess  Helena.  I  prefer  the  status  of  a  friend. 

Comte.  The  familiarity  will  not  surprise  you.  You  are 
one  of  the  women  whom  a  man  feels  he  has  known  all  his 
life,  when  he  speaks  to  her  for  the  first  time.  I  am  neither 
innocent  nor  confiding,  as  you  may  judge,  yet  I  feel  that  I 
have  not  a  secret  in  the  world  which  I  could  keep  from  you. 
You  are  a  benevolent  fairy,  enlivening  what  you  touch;  it 
is  a  gift.  I  have  never  known  until  this  moment  what  it 
is  to  be  alive. 

Princess  Helena.  Until  this  moment  ?  Then  I  fear  that 
at  this  moment  you  are  about  to  become  a  sadly  disappointed 
man. 

Comte.  How  so  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Because  you  will  find  that  ignorance 
is  a  prerequisite  to  enjoyment.  However,  that  was  probably 
not  what  you  were  going  to  say. 

Comte.  No,  I  forget. . . .  Ah,  yes !  I  remember.  It  was 
a  roundabout  way  of  telling  you  something  else. 

Princess  Helena.  Let  us  begin  with  the  roundabout 
way. 

Comte.  Before  we  became  so  intimate,  when  as  yet  I  ad- 
mired you  at  a  distance,  I  imagined  Herr  Rosmer  to  b'i — how 
shall  I  express  it  so  as  not  to  give  offense  ? 

77 


•S'S  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iii 

Princess  Helena.  An  ideal  creature,  a  Knight  of  the 
Swan,  a  legendary  hero.  Now  you  feel  that  he  is  a  very  or- 
dinary person,  like  everybody  else.  Naturally,  you  have  no 
means  of  comparison;  you  did  not  know  my  husband. 

CoMTE.  You  are  adorable ! 

Princess  Helena.  But  speaking  of  the  gentleman  was 
only  a  roundabout  way. 

CoMTE.  Of  telling  you  that  I  love  you ! 

Princess  Helena.  Doubtless  you  may  be  justified  in 
fancying  yourself  a  Lohengrin,  since  you  have  rescued  me 
from  an  embarrassing  predicament.  However,  if  I  were  in 
your  place,  I  think  I  should  delay  my  declaration  of  love  just 
a  little. 

CoMTE.  Why  delay  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Because  there  is  no  probability  of 
your  being  pleased  with  the  answer.  If  favorable,  you  will 
consider  it  gratitude;  if  unfavorable,  the  reverse. 

CoMTE.  All  I  ask  is  that  it  be  sincere. 

Princess  Helena.  Sincere  ?  When  your  entire  conversa- 
tion is  a  tissue  of  stock  gallantries,  which  apparently  you 
consider  obligatory,  although  in  my  case  they  are  somewhat 
bold. 

CoMTE.  Bold  ?    Is  that  intended  as  a  rebuke  ? 

Princess  Helena.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  intended  as 
friendly  advice.     One  accepts  anything  from  a  friend. 

CoMTE.  Why  not  accept  it  from  a  lover  ?  Love  is  stronger 
than  friendship.    However,  your  theory  interests  me. 

Princess  Helena.  No,  not  from  a  lover  whose  love  can- 
not be  returned.    It  is  so  easy  to  satisfy  a  friend. 

CoMTE.  Unless  only  love  can  satisfy  a  friend. 

Princess  Helena.  If  you  flatter  yourself  that  my  love  is 
to  become  the  guarantor  of  my  friendship,  you  may  as  well 
understand  at  once  that  my  heart  is  insolvent,  and  you  are  at 


ACT  III  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  79 

liberty  to  accept  my  insolvency  in  every  sense  of  the  word, 
mv  dear  friend. 
5^A1>"     The  Baroness  enters. 

Baroness.  Highness ! .  .  .  . 

Princess  Helena.  Is  the  concert  over  ?  Is  the  audience 
asleep,  or  is  it  still  yawning  in  ecstasy? 

Baroness.  Your  disappearance  has  occasioned  most  un- 
favorable comment. 

Princess  Helena.  Wilf's  music  is  depressing;  it  recalls  so 
much.  In  leaving,  I  fancied  that  I  was  paying  a  sincere 
tribute  to  its  value. 

Baroness.  The  Comte  was  obliged  to  follow  in  your  foot- 
steps. 

Princess  Helena.  Far  from  it.  The  Comte  had  already 
made  good  his  retreat. 

Baroness.  The  entire  audience  noticed  your  disappear- 
ance, as  it  were,  in  concert.  You  should  have  heard  what 
they  said ! 

Princess  Helena.  How  foolish  of  them  to  say  it  before 
you !  They  might  have  known  that  you  would  have  been 
sure  to  repeat  it. 

Baroness.  Your  Highness,  they  supposed  I  was  asleep. 

Princess  Helena.  Probably  you  were,  and  you  dreamed 
it.     Certainly  the  music  was  propitious. 

Baroness.  It  is  useless  to  argue.  After  this,  silence  is 
golden  in  my  sight.  No  matter  what  I  may  hear,  I  shall 
remain  silent — silent  as  the  moral  sense  of  Your  High- 
ness. 

Princess  Helena.  Comte,  the  Baroness  has  promised  us. 
Return  to  the  concert  and  set  these  idle  rumors  at  rest. 

Comte.  Shall  we  return  together  ?  It  is  nearly  over.  We 
shall  be  in  time  for  the  applause. 

Princess  Helena.  The  coincidence  would  be  too  striking. 


80  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  m 

No,  leave  me  here;  I  must  recuperate,  gazing  up  into  the 
heavens  on  this  beautiful  night,  which  is  all  tenderness. 

CoMTE.  Under  no  circumstances  expose  yourself  upon  the 
balcony.    The  night  is  cold. . . . 

Princess  Helena.  Perhaps,  for  these  lands  where  the 
orange-flower  blooms,  as  Mignon  sings,  but  to  me  it  seems 
a    beautiful   midsummer  evening,   after  the   icy   drafts   of 

the   Kingdom   of   Suavia.—    Why!    I  hear  music It 

cannot  be  the  concert;  it  floats  in  from  outside,  from  a  dis- 
tance.   It  is  a  waltz,  a  delicious  waltz ! 

Comte.  One  of  those  gypsy  orchestras  which  infest  the 
neighborhood.  There  is  an  all-night  restaurant  near  by,  just 
at  the  rear  of  the  villa,  a  resort  of  the  most  villainous  char- 
acter. Carnival  is  coming  on,  so  masked  balls  are  in  season. 
I  assure  you  that  they  are  interesting,  in  fact  unique.  One 
meets  the  entire  Almanac  de  Gotha  of  crime  at  them. 

Baroness.  Is  it  possible  ?    You  alarm  me. 

Princess  Helena.  Do  you  think  that  perhaps  we  might 
arrange  to  be  present  ? 

Baroness.  Highness !  I  am  shocked The  idea  oc- 
curred to  you  upon  the  spur  of  the  moment,  as  the  Comte 
spoke. 

Comte.  I  advise  against  it.  If  one  goes  alone,  it  is  dan- 
gerous; if  the  police  are  along,  the  thing  loses  its  attraction. 
The  dance  does  not  seem  the  same. 

Princess  Helena.  Silence ! 

Comte.  Do  you  hear  anything  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Don't  you  see  ? 

Comte.  Yes,  in  the  garden My  secretary,  Chantel. 

Princess  Helena.  But  who  is  she  ?  Who  is  she  ?  One  of 
the  guests  ? 

Comte.  I  think  not.    No I  cannot  make  out  from 

here. 


ACT  III  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  81 

Princess  Helena.  Baroness,  your  lorgnettes One  of 

the  maids.    Amusing,  is  it  not  ?    Ha,  ha !    Did  you  hear  that  ? 

CoMTE.  Yes,  a  kiss.    There  can  be  no  doubt  of  it. 

Baroness.  A  kiss  ?    Your  Highness,  retire ! 

Princess  Helena.  Enough Your  secretary  is  the 

only  person  who  is  enjoying  himself  this  evening.  It  is  the 
same  everywhere,  in  society  as  in  Ufe.  The  official  enter- 
tainment is  staged  in  the  drawing-room,  where  the  boredom 
is  polite;  the  real  entertainment  goes  on  behind  the  scenes. 

CoMTE.  Why  exchange  it  for  the  public  view  ?  Permit  me 
to  remain  at  your  side;  my  happiness  is  complete.  I  shall 
not  speak  to  you,  but  together  we  shall  gaze  into  the  sky,  we 
shall  listen  to  the  mingling  of  music  and  kisses,  while  our 
souls  blend  in  the  dark  silences  and  become  mute  as  the  tears 
well  up  in  our  eyes  in  a  transport  of  love  so  tremendous  that 
it  unites  in  its  tremor  the  fulness  of  life  and  the  fleeting 
premonition  of  death. 

Princess  Helena.  Poetic,  is  it  not?  Why,  there  are 
tears  in  your  eyes !    Are  you  much  affected? 

CoMTE.  Do  you  doubt  it.? 

Princess  Helena.  No,  no.  Let  us  withdraw  from  the 
balcony  and  return  to  the  concert.    You  alarm  me. 

CoMTE.  I  do?    In  what  way? 

Princess  Helena.  I  feel  that  I  am  becoming  affected  my- 
self, without  knowing  why.  I  could  easily  cry,  yet  I  could  not 
tell  you  the  reason.  I  am  unwilling  that  my  life  should  be 
influenced  by  this  night  of  faultless  blue  and  the  thrum  of 
music  afar  off,  or  determined  by  a  few  idle  words,  which,  if 
I  had  heard  them  in  broad  daylight,  in  the  midst  of  com- 
pany, I  should  have  laughed  at — as  I  laugh  at  them  now. 

CoMTE.  Your  Highness !    Helena !        [He  kisses  her  hand. 

Baroness.  Sir! 

Princess  Helena.  Don't   be   alarmed,   Baroness.     The 


82  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iii 

Comte  is  a  gentleman;  he  kisses  my  hand — as  Princess  of 
Suayia.    The  Comte  is  one  of  my  very  warm  friends, 
yiy  M.  DE  Chantel  erders. 
^  Princess  Helena.  Ah,  M.  de  Chantel !    Is  the  concert 
over?    Have  you  come  from  the  hall? 

Chantel.  Yes,  from  the  hall — from  that  direction.  Al- 
though I  believe  there  is  more  to  come. . . . 

Princess  Helena.  Your  enthusiasm  carries  you  away. 
What  divine  music !  I  am  impatient  to  hear  your  opinion» 
M.  de  Chantel. 

Chantel.  My  opinion?  I  should  prefer  to  hear  that  of 
Your  Highness  first.  Upon  finding  you  here,  my  impression 
was  that  you  were  as  thoroughly  bored  as  the  Comte. 

Princess  Helena.  Bored  ?  Never !  I  was  highly  en- 
thusiastic; in  fact,  I  was  nervous.    What  wonderful  music ! 

Chantel.  Sublime !    It  is  really. 

Princess  Helena.  And  so  inefiFably  suggestive.  One  ex- 
periences the  most  extraordinary  sensations  as  one  listens. 
For  a  moment  I  was  transported  into  the  moonlight,  into 
the  bosom  of  a  beautiful  garden,  heavy  with  the  scent  of 
violets;  the  music  sank  to  a  rippling  murmur  of  lovers'  kisses 
who,  as  it  seemed,  were  strolling  in  pairs  through  the  garden, 
in  embraces  so  tight  that  their  bodies  cast  but  a  single 
shadow  upon  the  ground,  symbolic  at  that  instant  of  the 
fusion  of  their  souls. 

Chantel.  Yes,  indeed!  The  music  is  extraordinarily 
suggestive. 

Comte.  [Aside  to  Chantel]  The  Princess  is  enjoying  her- 
self at  your  expense.    Be  careful !    She  knows  all. 

Chantel.  All? 

Comte.  All  that  we  could  see  from  here. 

Chantel.  Oh !  Your  Highness 

Princess  Helena.  I  congratulate  you,  M.  de  Chantel.    A 


ACT  III  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  83 

dark  garden  is  infinitely  preferable  to  a  lighted  salon,  and  a 
pretty  chambermaid  to  a  respectable  lady,  who  is  more 
cautious.  As  for  myself,  I  prefer  kisses  to  all  the  music  in 
the  world,  although  I  restrain  my  impulses  so  not  to  shock 
the  Baroness.  Only  vulgar  persons  take  their  art  at  second 
band,  manufactured  for  them  by  professionals,  whose  heart 
is  not  in  it.  Superior  spirits  live  their  art — they  wish  it  free. 
Yours  is  a  superior  spirit,  M.  de  Chantel,  and  you  deserve 
credit;  I  congratulate  you  with  all  my  heart.  Comte,  shall 
we  return  to  the  concert  ? — although  classic  music  will  seem 
rather  cold  after  this  natural  music,  which  has  drifted  in  at 
the  window. 

Comte.  I  shall  not  be  cold  while  I  ana  with  you  in  any 
case.    Life  with  you  is  all  art  and  all  loveliness. 

Princess  Helena.  Life  with  me  is  all  happiness.    Come, 
let  usijeturn  to  the  concert. 
^e>.  -^  [Princess  Helena  and  the  Comte  go  out. 

Baroness.  M.  de  Chantel,  I  appeal  to  your  sympathy. 
Was  ever  woman  in  a  more  humiliating  position  ? 

Chantel.  Oh,  my  dear  Baroness!  I  am  not  a  courtier; 
I  was  not  brought  up  among  princes  and  noblemen.  I  am 
low-born;  I  have  seen  everything,  I  have  endured  every- 
thing. I  have  been  hungry,  not  only  myself,  but  my  mother 
has  been  hungry,  my  sisters  and  brothers,  all  those  who  were 
near  and  dear  to  me.  You  do  not  know  what  that  means, 
my  dear  Baroness,  and  I  hope  you  may  never  know.  Of 
humiliations,  of  the  times  I  have  been  obliged  to  be  false  to 
my  conscience,  to  my  innermost  beliefs,  I  say  nothing.  And 
apart  from  what  I  have  suffered,  I  have  seen  a  great  deal. 
Misery  and  degradation  have  no  secrets  from  me.  I  have 
seen  factories  and  workshops  and  mines  where  human  be- 
ings are  herded  together  like  beasts  to  earn  their  deaths,  for 
it  would  be  irony  to  pretend  that  they  were  earning  a  liv- 


84  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iii 

ing;  I  have  seen  jails  constructed  to  imprison  those  who  are 
so  wanting  in  resignation  that  they  rise,  rather  than  submit 
to  the  blind  injustice  and  cruelty  of  their  fate;  I  have  seen 
asylums  and  hospitals  which  gather  up  those  who  fall  by  the 
wayside,  who  do  resign  themselves,  and  believe  me  there  is 
small  charity  in  them,  and  no  mercy.  I  have  seen — well,  a 
great  many  other  things,  the  very  existence  of  which  you 
cannot  even  imagine  at  the  Court  of  Sua  via.  I  have  seen 
these  things,  I  know  these  things,  by  experience,  as  a  man. 
So  you  will  not  be  surprised  if  I  reserve  all  my  sympathy  for 
persons  whose  situations  are  somewhat  more  distressing  than 
yours,  which  you  might  very  well  alleviate  if  you  cared  to 
do  so,  having  everything  that  you  wish  in  this  world,  besides 
looking  forward,  no  doubt,  to  a  glorious  reward  in  the  next. 
Excuse  me,  my  dear  Baroness. 

Baroness.  Are  you  laughing  at  me?  The  world  is  out  of 
joint.     I  scent  dissolution  in  the  air ! 

Chantel.  a  little  more  dissolution,  my  dear  Baroness, 
and  we  may  be  able  to  breathe.   The  atmosphere  is  surcharged 
already. 
^t  •  >^  Diana  de  Lys  and  the  Duchessa  d'Arcole  enter, 

Diana.  I  left  the  room  so  as  to  avoid  a  scene;  the  exhibition 
has  become  a  public  scandal. 

Duchessa.  He  has  not  allowed  her  one  moment  to  herself 
during  the  entire  evening. 

Diana.  The  unpleasant  part  of  it  is  that  everybody  is 
sorry  for  me.  If  the  Comte  were  my  husband,  I  should  not 
mind;  then  I  could  afford  to  be  independent.  But  now  all 
my  friends  think  that  the  Princess  is  forestalling  my  wedding. 
I  am  not  easy  about  it  myself.  You  know  how  vain  men  are; 
a  princess  is  not  to  be  had  every  day.  I  understand  that  she 
has  accepted  money  from  the  Comte. 

Duchessa.  Plenty  of  it,  you  may  be  certain. 


ACT  III  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  85 

Diana.  That  is  what  I  intend  to  find  out.  Call  Chantel; 
get  rid  of  the  Baroness  in  any  way  you  can. 

DucHEssA.  Chantel,  the  Comtesse  wishes  to  see  you. 
Pardon,  Baroness. .  .  . 

Baroness.  I  beg  your  pardon. 

DucHESSA.  You  did  not  remain  to  the  concert? 

Baroness.  No,  Her  Highness  was  taken  ill,  and  I  was 
obliged  to  leave  the  room  with  her. 

Duchessa.  With  her  and  the  Comte.    We  saw  you  go. 

Baroness.  The  Comte  has  been  most  sympathetic. 

Duchessa.  The  Comtesse  has  been  most  displeased. 

Baroness.  Ah!  The  Comtesse .í*  I  was  not  aware  that 
the  Comte  was  married. 

Duchessa.  He  expects  to  marry  shortly.  The  Princess 
has  been  flirting  scandalously  with  the  Comte  all  evening, 
and  the  Comtesse 

Baroness.  Is  she  the  Comtesse  who  was  a  ballet-dancer? 
In  fact,  I  am  not  sure  what  she  was;  I  am  not  familiar  with 
the  details.  In  a  place  like  this  one  is  continually  treading 
upon  thin  ice.  I  hear  persons  addressed  as  Duchess,  Count- 
ess— when  I  am  positive  that  there  never  were  any  such  titles, 
and  I  have  the  entire  almanac  of  European  nobility  by 
heart.  There  is  a  Duchessa  d'Arcole  here,  for  example,  not 
to  pursue  the  matter  further 

Duchessa.  A  title  dating  from  the  First  Empire,  one  of 
the  most  illustrious  of  France. 

Baroness.  It  is  not  in  my  books.  When  it  comes  to  that, 
in  questions  of  nobility,  the  First  Empire  does  not  exist.  It 
was  a  blot  on  the  page  of  Europe. 

Duchessa.  Why,  Baroness !  The  first  Due  d'Arcole  was 
my  great-grandfather.  I  would  not  exchange  my  title  for  a 
library  of  yours. 

Baroness.  I  regret  my  indiscretion,  and  even  more  that 


86  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  actiii 

I  am  so  placed  that  it  is  impossible  not  to  commit  one  at 
every  step.     Good  evening,  Madame.  [Goes  out. 

DucHESSA.  Yes,  hold  your  head  high!  You  may  be 
nobler  than  I  am,  but,  after  all,  we  both  fill  about  the  same 
void  in  the  world. 

Diana.  What  is  the  matter? 

DucHESSA.  Nothing.  That  old  Baroness !  I  wish  I  could 
have  had  the  last  word.    What  does  Chantel  say  ? 

Diana.  He  confirms  it.  The  Princess  has  obtained  a  loan 
from  the  Comte,  absolutely  without  security. 

Chantel.  Beyond  what  there  is  in  her  name. 

Diana.  And  her  reputation.  We  might  as  well  face  it. 
In  spite  of  all  this  pretense  of  boredom  and  superiority,  the 
Comte  is  snob  enough  and  sufficiently  vain  to  ruin  himself 
on  account  of  this  Princess,  a  thing  which  I  can  never  con- 
sent to,  after  having  sacrificed  myself  all  these  years  to  his 
whims  and  a  life  of  flat  monotony. 

DucHESSA.  It  would  be  irritating  to  say  the  least,  espe- 
cially if  he  does  not  marry  you.  You  gave  up  your  artistic 
career  to  please  him,  and  you  had  a  brilliant  future.  You 
abandoned  your  poor  father,  too,  who  took  to  drink  when 
you  left. 

Diana.  No,  no,  that  is  not  true.  He  took  to  drink  be- 
fore I  left. 

Duchessa.  But  he  drank  more  heavily  afterward,  be- 
cause you  sent  him  more  money. 

Diana.  Chantel,  we  have  always  been  friends.  Advise 
me.    For  the  first  time  I  am  confronted  with  a  serious  danger. 

Chantel.  Do  you  prefer  the  offensive  or  the  defensive? 
The  defensive  is  more  dignified,  as  it  permits  you  to  ignore 
the  situation.  The  secret  of  defense  is  delay.  In  the  first 
place,  the  Comte's  attachment  to  you,  which  is  something 
more  than  passion  by  this  time,  or  than  momentary  caprice. 


ACT  III 


PRINCESS  BEBÉ  87 


is  a  point  in  our  favor.  In  the  second  place,  the  Princess  does 
not  love  the  Comte.  This  adventure  is  nothing  to  her  but  a 
convenient  escape  from  a  temporary  embarrassment. 

Diana.  Yes,  I  believe  you  are  right.  The  defensive  has 
advantages. 

Chantel.  I  see  only  one  danger. 

Diana.  What  is  it.^ 

Chantel.  The  delay  which  it  involves,  we  do  not  know 
for  how  long.  The  Comte  may  ruin  himself  in  the  mean- 
time.   There  the  danger  lies. 

Diana.  We  had  better  take  the  offensive. 

Chantel.  It  seems  wiser  to  me. 

Diana.  Do  you  think  we  might  make  use  of  the  Prin- 
cess's lover?    He  must  already  be  jealous. 

Chantel.  I  place  no  faith  in  his  jealousy;  Herr  Rosmer 
is  surely  acquainted  with  the  financial  operations  of  the 
Princess.  Besides,  a  man  who  loves  a  woman  who  is  above 
him  socially,  or  who  permits  her  to  love  him,  is  not  in  a 
position  to  be  jealous.  He  offers  nothing  and  accepts  every- 
thing, either  because  he  loves  her  so  much  that  he  is  willing 
to  forget  his  dignity  and  his  self-respect,  as  well  as  the  pro- 
prieties, or  otherwise  he  does  not  love  her  at  all,  and  is 
merely  thinking  of  what  he  can  get  out  of  her.  Whichever 
it  is,  whether  it  is  love  or  self-interest,  whatever  he  sees,  he 
will  notice  nothing.  Love  is  blind  while  self-interest  shuts 
its  eyes.    The  result  is  the  same. 

Diana.  But  then  ? 

Chantel.  The  alternative  is  a  scene;  let  all  the  world 
know.  Become  jealous  yourself,  attack  the  Comte  and  the 
Princess,  drive  her  out  of  the  house — compel  her  to  avoid 
appearing  where  you  are.  Then  Herr  Rosmer  will  be  obliged 
to  notice  it,  as  he  expects  to  marry  the  Princess  as  soon  as 
she  obtains  her  divorce. 


88  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  .  act  hi 

Diana.  Suppose  it  leads  to  a  duel?  An  open  scandal 
might  drive  them  together. 

Chantel.  Who?  The  Comte  and  Herr  Rosmer?  Im- 
possible !  What  has  he  to  do  with  it  ?  He  is  only  the  Prin- 
cess's lover.  If  worst  comes  to  worst,  before  he  fought  him, 
they  would  have  to  pay  back  what  they  owe — which  would 
be  clear  gain  to  us,  whatever  happens. 

Diana.  There  is  something  in  that. 

Chantel.  Five  hundred  thousand  francs,  Comtesse,  not 
to  speak  of  small  bills.    Then 

Diana.  The  scene  will  be  a  big  one.  Fancy  trusting  a 
princess  with  five  hundred  thousand  francs ! 

Chantel.  Apparently 

Diana.  The  offensive !  My  mind  is  made  up.  All  for  all ! 
Silence !  The  concert  is  over  and  the  audience  is  coming  out. 
Float  in  the  background. 

X^ .  Princess  Helena,  Elsa,  Madame  Wilf,  the  Baron- 
rC/  ESS,  Prince  Stephen,  Herr  Rosmer,  the  Comte, 

Wulf,  and  Gottfried  Wilf  enter. 

Comte.  Superb !  Superb !  It  is  an  evening  I  shall  never 
forget. 

Various  Guests.  Superb !    Superb !      [Complete  silence, 

Comte.  How  quiet  it  seems !    Everybody  is  depressed. 

Mme.  Wilf.  The  caress  of  sublimity  has  descended  upon 
our  souls. 

Wulf.  The  audience  is  annihilated.  It  is  the  custom- 
ary effect. 

Wilf.  Did  you  observe  the  transfiguration  of  the  conductor 
before  his  orchestra  ? 

Wulf.  I  am  no  longer  myself  upon  such  occasions.  I  am 
he — ity  his  spirit.  Lay  your  hand  upon  my  heart;  be  so 
kind ....     Place  your  ear  there. 

Elsa.  Oh,  indeed !. . . .     How  remarkable ! 


ACT  III  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  89 

WuLF.  I  beg  your  pardon.    Madame. ... 

Chantel.  Baroness,  you  are  next. 

Baroness.  I.^^    With  my  ear  on  a  man's  chest? 

Chantel.  Upon  his  bosom. 

WuLF.  Physicians  have  observed  curious  phenomena  in 
me  immediately  after  the  termination  of  a  concert.  Ladies 
and  gentlemen,  if  a  magnetic  needle  were  to  be  approached  to 
my  brain 

CoMTE.  Oh,  oh!  This  is  too  much.  A  concert  and  lec- 
ture in  one ! 

WiLF.  This  is  the  first  time  I  recall  that  the  trumpets 
have  not  been  off  the  key. 

WuLF.  I  took  the  precaution  of  suppressing  them. 

WiLF.  Evidently  a  wise  measure.  I  hope  they  have-not 
overlooked  supper. 

WuLF.  I  saw  an  immense  salmon  carried  by  on  a  platter 
as  I  was  conducting  the  orchestra,  entirely  surrounded  by 
little  shrimps. 

WiLF.  Mere  details. 

WuLF.  As  we  hope,  and  many  of  them.  The  Comte's 
reputation  is  magnificent. 

Diana.  [To  the  Duchessa]  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  He  does 
not  leave  her. ...  I  never  saw  the  Comte  so  excited;  he  is 
in  earnest.    This  is  the  occasion  to  make  a  scene. 

Duchessa.  I  advise  against  it.  The  Comte  cannot  allow 
the  Princess  to  be  insulted  in  his  house;  you  may  find  your- 
self in  a  most  disagreeable  position. 

Mme.  Wilf.  [To  Elsa]  It  was  a  horrible  disappointment 
when  Your  Highness  declined  to  sing,  as  you  had  promised. 
The  episode  of  the  "Wild  Cats"  would  have  been  marvellous 
in  your  hands.  Few  artists  are  capable  of  interpreting  the 
passage  sympathetically. 

Elsa.  I  should  not  have  hesitated,  of  course,  if  there  had 


90  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iii 

been  no  strangers  present,  but  Princess  Helena  has  destroyed 
the  charm  of  the  evening,  with  its  informality. 

Mme.  Wilf.  She  walked  out  of  the  concert  after  hearing 
the  first  note. 

Elsa.  Her  attitude  has  been  sufficiently  incorrect. 

Mme.  Wilf.  It  might  appear  presumptuous  in  me  to  say 
so. 

Baroness.  [To  Prince  Stephen]  Your  Highness  is  the 
only  representative  of  the  family  who  is  present.  Exert  your 
influence  with  the  Princess,  as  she  regards  you  with  favor. 
Explain  to  her  how  her  conduct  only  aggravates  the  situa- 
tion.   Everybody  is  gossiping.     You  must  have  noticed  it 

this  evening.     Look  around While  the  guests  are  all 

worried.  Her  Highness  spends  her  time  laughing. 

Prince  Stephen.  If  the  guests  are  so  easily  shocked  in 
the  house  of  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles,  probably  my  cousin 
would  reply  that  it  was  hardly  worth  her  while  to  come 
here  to  waste  the  evening. 

Baroness.  Do  you  approve  of  the  conduct  of  Her  High- 
ness ? 

Prince  Stephen.  No,  it  is  foolish,  very  foolish  indeed. 
But  I  see  nobody  here  who  is  in  a  position  to  take  exception 
to  it. 

Baroness.  The  Comtesse  is  jealous.  I  fear  that  she  will 
make  a  scene. 

Prince  Stephen.  No,  never.  The  Comtesse  is  a  woman  of 
the  world.  The  Comte  could  never  permit  a  scene  in  his 
house.  As  far  as  Herr  Rosmer  is  concerned,  he  takes  it 
quite  coolly.    I  am  sorry  for  poor  Helena. 

Baroness.  Now  you  are  sympathizing  with  her ! 

Prince  Stephen.  With  all  my  heart.  She  has  made  a 
mistake.  The  opportunity  of  living  a  new  life  was  what  at- 
tracted her  to  Herr  Rosmer,  while  he  merely  saw  in  her  the 


ACT  III  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  91 

Princess  of  Suavia.  Neither  has  found  love  to  be  what  they 
thought.  Now,  how  rectify  this  new  mistake  ?  One  mistake 
may  be  forgiven,  one  rectification  in  life.  A  woman  does  not 
look  nearly  so  foolish  when  she  leaves  her  husband  for  a 
lover,  as  she  does  afterward  when  she  leaves  her  lover,  even 
if  she  goes  back  to  her  husband.  The  only  justification  for 
certain  mistakes  is  persevering  in  them. 

Baroness.  Not  another  lover!  Do  you  mean  it.?  Oh, 
that  would  be  horrible  ! 

Prince  Stephen.  But  how  natural !  Why  should  Helena 
resign  herself  to  a  second  mistake,  when  she  refused  to  re- 
sign herself  to  the  first  .f* 

Baroness.  It  is  not  a  contingency  that  I  care  to  contem- 
plate. What  will  they  think  in  Suavia  ?  Hush !  Her  High- 
ness may  hear.  . .  . 

Prince  Stephen.  I  do  not  believe  that  our  ideas  are  very 
diflFerent,  although  the  subject  has  not  been  discussed  be- 
tween us.  Our  sentimental  history  has  been  very  much  the 
same. 

Baroness.  Have  you  also  made  a  mistake? 

Prince  Stephen.  I  don't  know.  My  attitude  is  similar 
to  yours.  Baroness,  when  you  close  your  eyes  to  what  strikes 
you  in  the  face: — I  don't  want  to  know.  I  am  unwilling  to 
believe  it,  so  I  do  not  think  of  it;  I  am  unwilling  to  believe  it. 

Mme.  Wilf.  My ....  my  nerves  have  been  on  edge  for  the 

past  half -hour!    I  cannot  control  myself  any  longer I 

must  let  go  somehow.    Oh,  oh ! 

All.  What  is  the  matter?  What  has  happened  to  Mme. 
Wilf?    What  is  the  trouble? 

WuLF.  Nothing,  nothing !  Don't  touch  her !  The  effect 
of  the  music. 

Wilf.  Mother,  mother ! . . . .  Of  course !  She  is  always 
taken  like  this  after  hearing  father's  music. 


92  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  ni 

CoMTE.  Ah,  insupportable!  The  imposition  has  reached 
the  limit. 

Mme.  WiLF.  Oh!    Oh! 

WiLF.  Run  for  a  violin !  The  first  bars  of  the  "Hymn  of 
Life"  bring  her  to  with  a  start. 

CoMTE.  By  all  means,  as  long  as  she  makes  it  in  another 
room,  by  yourselves.  You  can  play  the  violin  and  she  can 
yell  there  as  much  as  she  wants  to. 

WuLF.  M.  le  Comte,  it  is  the  only  possible  relief.  Madame, 
make  a  great  eflFort 

Mme.  Wilf.  It  is  he;  it — his  spirit !  I  see  it,  and  he  calls 
to  me! 

Comte.  Chantel,  do  what  you  can  for  these  people 

Feed  them,  and  get  them  out  in  short  order.  Under  no  cir- 
cumstances are  we  to  hear  from  them  again.  It  is  too  much 
pose  to  ask  us  to  listen  to  this  music. 

Mme.  Wilf,  Wulf,  Gottfried  Wilf,  and  Chantel 

^^y  90  out. 

^  Comte.  In  any  event  this  will  be  our  last  concert. 

Princess  Helena.  I  must  confess  it  was  terrible.  My 
only  regret  is  that  I  did  not  hear  my  new  cousin  sing. 

Elsa.  1?    I  did  not  sing. 

Princess  Helena.  But  now  that  we  are  en  f amule  per- 
haps you  will  oblige  us. 

Diana.  Enfamille? 

Princess  Helena.  Yes,  this  seems  like  a  family  affair  to 
me.  The  atmosphere  is  delightfully  familiar.  We  do  not 
mind  what  we  say,  and  we  are  not  ashamed  to  sit  here  and 
listen  to  it  either.  It  would  not  be  easy  to  shock  this  com- 
pany. Elsa,  my  dear,  I  should  like  to  ask  a  favor  of  you,  now 
that  the  occasion  is  propitious. 

Elsa.  Of  me  ? 

Princess  Helena.  I  do  so  want  to  hear  you  sing — I  mean 


ACT  in  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  93 

your  real  songs,  the  repertoire  that  you  used  to  sing  in  the 
theatre.  I  have  heard  so  much  about  you  that  I  am  terribly 
anxious  to  hear  you,  although  at  Court,  of  course,  this  sort 
of  thing  was  impossible. 

Elsa.  Stephen !    Is  anything  wrong  with  Her  Highness  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  Elsa ! 

Elsa.  Tell  her  to  respect  me.  She  has  no  right,  you  must 
not  allow  her  to  insult  me  like  this. 

Princess  Helena.  What  is  the  matter  ?  What  is  she 
crying  about .'' 

Prince  Stephen.  Be  quiet !  Say  nothing. — She  thinks 
you  are  trying  to  insult  her. 

Princess  Helena.  I?  I  insult  her?  Why  should  I? 
She  is  crazy. 

Elsa.  Let  me  alone;  don't  you  talk  to  me.  She  has  no 
right  to  treat  me  like  this.    It  is  all  your  fault. 

Prince  Stephen.  Oh,  come,  come !  What  is  the  use  of 
being  silly  ? 

Princess  Helena.  But,  Stephen 

Prince  Stephen.  I  told  you  so.  They  are  the  ones  who 
cannot  forget.  [Goes  out  with  Elsa. 

Princess  Helena.  Does  she  think  that  I  tried  deliber- 
ately to  insult  her  ^  How  could  she  ?  I  ask  you,  was  I  wrong  ? 
I  will  be  the  first  to  apologize.  She  promised  to  sing  at 
the  concert  this  evening.  Then  why  should  she  be  oflFended 
because  I  ask  her  to  sing  for  us  afterward.''  Everybody 
knows  that  she  was  a  comic-opera  singer — that  is  her  reputa- 
tion, her  personality,  to  which  she  owes  her  position;  but 
now  she  attempts  to  deny  it,  and  is  offended  because  I  men- 
tion it.  She  blames  it  on  me — me,  who  have  always  admired 
anybody,  man  or  woman,  who  has  had  the  courage  to  make 
his  own  way  in  the  world,  whatever  his  social  position,  and 
who  owes  all  that  he  is  to  his  own  efforts.     [To  Diana] 


94  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iii 

Why,  you  might  just  as  well  question  my  admiration  for  you ! 
I  envy  you  for  that  very  reason.  The  Comte  has  told  me 
this  evening  the  story  of  your  life,  how  he  met  you,  how  you 
struggled  up,  how  through  sheer  force  of  genius,  yes,  of 
genius  and  determination,  you  cpmpelled  at  last  the  admira- 
tion of  all  Paris.  Its  authors  and  artists  flung  themselves  at 
your  feet 

Diana.  And  I  suppose  you  would  like  me  to  repeat  for 
your  benefit  some  of  the  pantomimes  that  made  me  famous  ? 
Well,  I  am  not  ashamed  of  my  past  like  la  Konigsberg.  You 
cannot  offend  me  by  your  impertinence. 

Comte.  Why,  Diana ! 

Princess  Helena.  What  is  this  woman  talking  about  ? 

Diana.  If  either  of  us  had  been  presented  at  the  Court  of 
Suavia,  and  had  exhibited  the  same  utter  lack  of  taste  which 
Your  Highness  does  here,  we  should  have  found  ourselves,, 
upon  the  street  again  at  the  double-quick.  <  '^ 

Comte.  Diana!  ^         ,  ^^rt^ 

Princess  Helena.  She  insults  me !  ""^ 

Baroness.  A  scandal !  I  felt  it  coming !  It  will  be  tele- 
graphed to  Suavia ! 

Duchessa.  You  have  said  enough  for  the  present.  You 
have  shown  them  who  you  are. 

Diana  and  the  Duchessa  move  toward  the  door  to  jhiss 
out. 

Princess  Helena.  Oh !  So  you  are  jealous,  are  you  ^  Of 
your  Comte .^  What  did  you  think?  Because  I  have  con- 
descended to  listen  to  him,  to  tolerate  his  imbecilities 

Comte.  Highness! 

Princess  Helena.  Because  I  have  done  him  the  honor  to 
permit  him  to  be  my  creditor 

Albert.  Helena! 

Baroness.  Great  God ! 


ACT  III  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  95 

CoMTE.  Your  Highness  has  forgotten  herself.  An  attack 
of  nerves.  Besides,  you  are  a  woman.  As  no  gentleman  of 
your  family  is  present 

Albert.  M.  le  Comte ! . . . .  You  understand Over- 
look this  exhibition.  An  attack  of  nerves,  as  you  say. 
^-^jTjy  [The  Comte  retires. 
^  ^  'Trincess  Helena.  Jealous,  is  she .?  Of  me  ?  Does  she 
flatter  herself  that  a  Princess  of  Suavia  can  be  bought  at 
such  a  price.?  All  the  money  of  this  blithering  upstart 
would  not  repay  me  for  the  annoyance  of  once  visiting  his 
house.  I  came  to  enjoy  myself,  because  I  chose;  it  was  a 
caprice;  but,  frankly,  was  it  worth  taking  all  this  trouble 
only  to  find  myself  surrounded  by  more  hypocrisy,  more 
stupid  dignity,  and  a  world  less  of  liberty  than  in  my  royal 
palaces?  My  heart  overflowed  with  happiness,  I  was  sin- 
cere, because  I  supposed  that  I  was  among  real  people  at 
last,  who  were  not  afraid  to  face  the  facts  of  life,  but  here 
everything  is  taken  in  ill  part,  it  gives  offense.  I  was  proud 
to  have  renounced  my  rank  and  station,  because  I  did  it  for 
love — it  was  for  love  that  I  stepped  down;  but  these  people 
are  not  only  ashamed  of  their  past,  but  of  the  very  love 
which  has  raised  them  where  they  never  had  any  right 
to  be.  Miserable  creatures,  evil-minded,  soulless,  all  of 
them !  Now  I  see !  Now  I  understand !  How  can  equality 
ever  be  possible  in  this  world,  when  these  puny  spirits  with 
their  vulgarities  remind  us  in  spite  of  ourselves  that  we  are 
royal? 

Baroness.  You  ought  never  to  have  forgotten  it.  Pride 
of  race  was  bound  to  reassert  itself  at  last. 

Princess  Helena.  Pride  of  race  ?  Not  at  all !  Self- 
respect,  common  instinct. 

Albert.  Perhaps  you  appreciate  now  why  I  objected  to 
your  visiting  this  house  and  mingling  with  these  people. 


96  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  in 

This  humiliation  should  surely  be  sufficient.  You  have 
been  insulted  by  the  Comte's  mistress,  and  I  was  unable  to 
protect  you  or  to  receive  an  explanation.  Before  I  could 
have  done  so,  I  should  have  been  obliged  to  pay  him  what 
we  owe.  The  woman  was  justified  in  being  jealous,  for  that 
matter;  your  behavior  to-night  has  been  susceptible  of  the 
worst  interpretation. 

Princess  Helena.  That  will  do !  Enough !  No  more 
recriminations  from  you,  nor  from  anybody.  My  next  step 
will  be  to  recover  my  liberty,  and  to  give  you  yours  in  re- 
turn. Baroness,  telegraph  to  Suavia  for  that  money  to- 
night in  my  name,  at  whatever  cost.  I  yield,  I  submit  to 
the  terms  of  the  Emperor. 

Albert.  Helena !    You  will  never  do  that.    Impossible ! 

Princess  Helena.  You  complain  of  the  humiliations  of 
this  life.  These  are  the  thanks  I  receive  for  accepting  them, 
voluntarily,  for  the  sake  of  your  love !  As  for  demanding 
satisfaction  of  the  Comte,  if  it  had  come  to  that,  you  would 
^  not  have  been  the  one  who  would  have  exacted  it — it  would 
have  been  my  cousin  Stephen.  He  has  not  yet  stooped  so 
low,  nor  have  I,  as  to  forget  the  obligation  which  we  owe  to 
our  name.  [Discovering  Stephen,  who  has  entered  a  moment 
previously]  Am  I  right,  Stephen  .í* 
¿^  I,  •^^pRINCE  Stephen.  My  dear  cousin,  it  is  too  late  for  us 
now  to  remember  who  we  are.  My  situation  is  as  impossible 
as  yours,  but  your  words  have  decided  me.  I  am  myself 
heavily  in  debt  to  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles.  Before  I 
could  exact  satisfaction,  like  you  I  should  be  obliged  to 
throw  myself  upon  the  mercy  T)f  the  Emperor — and  the 
Emperor  has  no  mercy. 

Baroness.  He  would  impose  but  one  condition. 

Albert.  That  you  return  to  your  husband. 

Prince  Stephen.  That  I  divorce  my  wife. 


ACT  III  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  97 

Baroness.  Certainly.    Those  are  the  only  terms. 

Princess  Helena.  The  only  terms?  We  must  think 
them  over. 

Albert.  What.^* 

Princess  Helena.  We  must  think  them  over.     Must  we 

not,  Stephen? No,  I  can  never  return  to  Sua  via;  that 

would  be  to  retreat,  and  I  have  sworn  already  that  I  shall 
never  retreat.  Now  leave  me!  When  I  walk  out  of  this 
house,  it  will  be  upon  the  arm  of  the  Prince,  as  I  ought,  as 
Princess  of  Suavia. 

Prince  Stephen.  Command  me. 

Princess  Helena.  Baroness,  Herr  Rosmer  will  see  you 
home.  I  wish  to  talk  with  the  Prince.  Upon  the  result  of 
this  interview,  perhaps,  depends  the  future  of  our  lives. 

Albert.  Baroness,  I  trust  that  you  will  be  able  to  pre- 
vent any  further  outbreaks  on  the  part  of  Her  Highness. 

Baroness.  Alas,  there  was  more  hope  of  preventing  the 
first! 
<^a,iC      ^^^  Baroness  and  Herr  Rosmer  go  out,  | 

Princess  Helena.  What  did  Elsa  say  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  It  is  offensive,  absurd.  She  blames  me 
for  the  exhibition  because  I  do  not  treat  her  with  proper  re- 
spect. 

Princess  Helena.  Did  she  dwell  upon  her  humiliations  ? 
Suppose  we  were  to  remind  them  of  ours  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  Which  they  do  not  appreciate  in  the 
least. 

Princess  Helena.  I  have  been  through  it;  I  have  had 
the  experience.  We  have  made  a  mistake.  Well?  What 
shall  we  do  now? 

Prince  Stephen.  Admit  our  mistake  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Yes. 

Prince  Stephen.  And  resign  ourselves  to  our  fate  ? 


98  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iii 

Princess  Helena.  No. 

Prince  Stephen.  Then  what  shall  we  do  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Resume  living. 

Prince  Stephen.  How  ? 

Princess  Helena.  By  accepting  what  life  has  to  offer  as 
we  pass,  sorrow  when  it  is  sorrow,  joy  when  it  is  joy.  At 
this  moment,  it  offers  us — friendship,  the  mutual  sympathy 
of  our  hearts,  it  offers  us ...  .  this  music,  which  haunts  our 
ears  and  draws  us  toward  itself.  It  is  only  a  popular  song, 
from  a  midnight  garden  not  far  off,  with  a  halo  of  legendary, 
mysterious  wickedness.  A  short  while  ago,  I  suggested  that 
we  should  all  visit  it  together,  but,  naturally,  everybody  was 
shocked.    I  wonder  if  you  would  be  shocked,  really  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  It  might  amuse  me.  Let  us  go.  I  have 
had  my  fill  of  propriety  for  the  evening. 

Princess  Helena.  Especially  when  it  descends  upon  us 
from  quarters  in  which  it  is  so  utterly  unexpected.  .  .  .  Why, 
I  feel  already  like  a  different  woman.  I  am  happy  now;  the 
past  is  forgotten.  This  adventure  will  repay  me  for  the  hor- 
rible evening  I  have  spent.  And  I  had  expected  to  be  so 
happy !  How  beautiful  it  is  to  run  away,  to  escape,  to  fly, 
always  to  fly — from  somebody,  from  something ! 

Prince  Stephen.  If  only  one  believes  that  one  is  flying 
toward  happiness. 

Princess  Helena.  No,  not  toward  happiness,  because 
happiness  does  not  exist.    There  are  only  happy  moments. 

Prince  Stephen.  There  are. . .  .happy  moments. 

Princess  Helena.  Why  not  make  this  one  of  them  ? 

Curtain 


CHARACTERS   APPEARING   IN   THE 
FOURTH    ACT 

Princess  Helena 
Prince  Stephen 
Margot 

BlONDINETTA 

The  Woman  With  the  Scar 
An  Englishman 
The  Little  Marquis 
Cosi-Cosi 
A  Gendarme 


THE    FOURTH    ACT 

An  open-air  restaurant  at  night.    The  Englishman  is  seated 
at  a  table,  drinking  beer,   Margot  and  Biondinetta  enter. 

BiONDiNETTA.  I  told  you  he  wasn't  here.  He  won't  come 
to-night,  either.  He  tells  me  that  he  is  coming  so  that  I 
won't  look  for  him  where  I  know  he  is,  where  I  am  going 
some  night  to  dig  a  knife  into  his  heart,  if  he  deceives  me. 

Margot.  You  talk  like  a  fool.  Kill  a  man,  eh?  Don't 
you  do  it,  and  don't  you  kill  yourself  for  him,  either.  He'll 
be  back  after  you  some  day  soon  enough,  when  you  don't 
want  it. 

Biondinetta.  No,  he'll  never  come  back.  He  has  money 
now.  Didn't  you  see.'*  Do  you  know  where  he  gets  all  his 
money  ? 

Margot.  Of  course  I  do !  Do  you  suppose  I'd  kill  mine 
for  that.?  When  mine  bothers  me  is  when  he  hasn't  any 
money.  When  he  has,  I  never  ask  him  where  he  gets  it. 
Do  they  ask  us? 

Biondinetta.  But  I  don't  love  anybody  but  him,  and  he 
knows  it. 

Margot.  And  he  loves  you;  the  boy  has  to  live.  You 
ought  to  be  glad  of  it;  it  isn't  right  that  you  should  be  the 
only  one  who  works.  Come  on,  now,  and  dance.  If  he  thinks 
you've  forgotten  him  and  are  in  love  with  some  one  else,  he'll 
come  back  fast  enough.  He'll  get  tired,  like  all  the  rest. 
You  can  find  people  who  are  willing  to  hand  out  a  hundred 
francs,  five  hundred  francs,  a  thousand  francs — but  it's  only 
once,  because  they  happen  to  feel  like  it,  but  when  it  comes  to 
five  or  ten  francs  every  day,  or  whatever  you've  got,  and  if 

101 


:l(>2:-:  ;•*;•::    .  .PHiKCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

•     •«     ••«'       ««»••«       f     f 

you  haven't  got  it  you  dig  it  up  out  of  the  ground,  so  that 
they  shan't  go  without — a  man  can't  have  that  unless  he's 
got  somebody  to  love  him,  like  you  love  him,  and  he'll  never 
find  it  anywhere  else  either.    Come  on  and  dance. 

BioNDiNETTA.  No,  I'm  not  gomg.  I  came  here  to  meet 
him,  and  I'm  not  going  away;  I  mean  to  look  for  him,  and 
I'll  look  for  him,  even  if  he  kills  me. 

Margot.  No,  you  won't.  What?  Go  there.?  He  is 
with  swells  now,  you  know  that.  They  don't  want  any 
scenes.  They  know  how  to  take  care  of  themselves  when 
they  are  having  a  good  time,  you'd  better  believe  it. 

BiONDiNETTA.  Yes,  I  know.  She's  a  fine  lady  and  they're 
grand  people,  but  rotten  with  sin.  They  are  worse  than  we 
are,  only  more  respectable. 

Margot.  That's  what  you  get  for  having  a  boy  that's 
good-looking.    Why  didn't  I  take  this  fellow  ? 

BioNDiNETTA.  Fred,  the  Englishman.?  You'd  have  made 
a  big  mistake.  He's  a  sot.  He'd  march  off  for  a  bock  with 
the  first  one  who  happened  along.  I've  seen  him  do  it.  You 
are  happy  now;  yours  loves  you. 

Margot.  Yes,  he's  so  refined;  he  knows  how  to  treat  me. 
He  got  into  a  nasty  mess  that  time  I  was  sick  in  Paris,  so 
that  I  shouldn't  want  for  anything — six  months  in  the  peni- 
tentiary was  what  they  gave  him,  though  nobody  would  ap- 
pear against  him,  not  even  the  man  who  was  wounded;  it 
was  safer  for  him  to  shut  up,  and  he  knew  it.  Hello !  An- 
other quadrille.  Come  on,  we  ought  to  dance.  M.  Boni- 
face will  be  angry  if  we  don't.  He  says  unless  we  dance  and 
get  people  to  spend  money  in  the  restaurant,  it  isn't  worth 
his  whUe  to  give  us  tickets.  Help  me  out.  There's  a  ship- 
load of  Italian  sailors  in  to-night;  you  talk  their  lingo. 
They've  money  after  the  voyage — plenty  of  it.  Come  on 
and  dance. 


ACT  IV  PRINCESS   BEBÉ  103 

BiONDiNETTA.  I'll  tell  them  whatever  you  want;  but  not 
a  word  on  my  own  account. 

Englishman.  My  darling,  will  you  buy  me  a  bock  ? 

Margot.  You  know  where  you  can  get  a  bock  that  has 
diamonds  in  it,  when  you  want  it. 

Englishman.  Diamonds.'*  I  don't  believe  in  diamonds 
any  more. 

Margot.  No,  I  suppose  you've  drunk  them  all  up  by  this 
time. 

Englishman.  [Pointing  to  the  beer]  This  doesn't  play  me 
the  tricks  that  you  do.  I  am  not  myself  now — I  don't  feel 
well;  I  am  sick.  Lend  me  five  francs,  Margot;  have  a  heart 
with  poor  Fred. 

Margot.  Five  francs?  You  can  earn  them  easier  than 
we  can. 

Englishman.  Don't  you  want  to  lend  them  to  me?  I'll 
find  your  man,  then,  and  kill  him.    I  am  stronger  than  he  is. 

Margot.  Get  out !  Let  go  of  me,  will  you  ?  Don't  be  so 
rough. 

Englishman.  Give  me  five  francs ! 

Margot.  Let  go ! 

BioNDiNETTA.  I'll  scream  if  you  don't. 

Margot.  Don't  you  do  it.  Then  the  police  will  come,  and 
jail  us  all.  I  can  handle  him  myself;  he's  no  good.  Now  get 
out! 

Englishman.  All  this  fuss  over  five  francs !  You  don't 
treat  me  right.    But  I'll  get  even  with  you;  you'll  be  sorry. 

Margot.  Come  on  and  dance. 
<- -  ^    The  Little  Marquis  and  Cosi-Cosi  enter. 

Little  Marquis.  What  is  he  doing  to  you  ? 

BiONDiNETTA.  Ah,  SO  you'rc  here,  are  you?  I  never  ex- 
pected it. 


104  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

Little  Marquis.  Why  not  ?  I  told  you  I  was  coming, 
and  here  I  am.    I  suppose  I  am  not  a  man  of  my  word  ? 

BiONDiNETTA.  YouT  wofd  ?  Well,  where  have  you  been 
then.?> 

Little  Marquis.  That's  it !  The  first  question  you  ask 
a  man  is  where  he  has  been;  afterward  you  inquire  for  his 
health,  which  doesn't  matter.  I  might  have  killed  myself  for 
all  you  care — have  been  dead. 

BiONDiNETTA.  Killed  yourself  ?    Not  much ! 

Little  Marquis.  You  don't  believe  it,  eh  ?  You  tell 
her. 

Cosi-Cosi.  Yes,  he  might  have  killed  himself.    Easily. 

BiONDiNETTA.   Houest? 

Little  Marquis.  You  think  a  man  is  made  of  stone.  I 
can't  stand  these  rows  all  the  time.  After  last  night — you 
can  tell  her.     How  did  I  feel? 

Cosi-Cosi.  Sick.    He  fell  flat. 

Margot.  Don't  you  mind  what  he  says.  That's  the  game; 
they've  fixed  it  up  between  them.  Don't  you  see  ?  What's 
that  ?    Hold  out  your  hand ....    Another  ring  ? 

BiONDiNETTA.  Who  gavc  you  that  ring  ? 

Little  Marquis.  It  isn't  mine;  it's  one  I've  got  to  sell. 

BiONDiNETTA.  Who  gave  you  that  ring  ? 

Little  Marquis.  Oh,  I  bought  it !  Will  that  do  ?  Good ! 
Now  shut  up.  If  it  won't  do,  just  as  good,  see  ?  And  shut 
up. 

Cosi-Cosi.  What  was  the  Englishman  putting  over  when 
we  came  in  ? 

Margot.  Oh,  nothing !    He's  drunk. 

Cosi-Cosi.  He  needs  a  sound  thrashing,  and  I'm  the  man 
to  give  it  to  him. 

Margot.  Let  him  alone,  will  you  ? 

Little  Marquis.  No,  I  am  the  one  to  do  it;  I'll  show  you. 


ACT  IV  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  105 

Margot.  Go  along ! 

Little  Marquis.  He'll  wish  I  had.  He'll  not  stick  his 
nose  in  this  place  again.    What  is  the  matter  with  you  ? 

Englishman.  Do  you  want  to  fight  .'^  I  don't  fight  over 
women.  Sit  down.  Waiter!. . .  .bring  a  bock.  Bring  two 
bocks.    Call  over  your  friend. 

Cosi-Cosi.  I  don't  care  to  sit  down. 

Englishman.  I  tell  you  sit  down.  The  first  thing  that 
gentlemen  do  when  they  meet  is  talk  nice;  then  they  take  a 
drink.  Then  they  fight — only  they  don't  fight  over  women. 
You  damn  fools !  We  are  good  friends.  Let's  get  down  to 
business — serious  business. 

Margot.  Are  you  going  to  sit  there  and  listen  to  him  ? 

Little  Marquis.  Why  not.^*  The  man  talks  sense;  it 
sounds  reasonable. 

Englishman.  Tell  them  to  get  out.  Our  business  is  not 
forewomen;  it's  serious. 

BlONDINETTA.   But 

Little  Marquis.  Get  out;  leave  us  alone.    Do  you  hear? 

BlONDINETTA.  Yes,  Hsteu  to  me.  What  business  have  you 
got  to  talk  over  with  them  ?    I  know  what  your  business  is. 

Englishman.  Tell  them  to  shut  up,  will  you  ?  Can't  you 
shut  up  your  own  women  ? 

Little  Marquis.  I  told  you  to  shut  up  and  wait  for  us 
out  there. 

Margot.  Oh,  come  along !  They  make  me  sick.  They're 
always  hot  to  fight  for  us,  but  that's  before  they  begin.  By 
the  time  they  do,  they  are  friends,  and  then  they  fight  us — 
to  a  finish.    Come  on  and  dance. 

[Margot  and  Biondinetta  go  out. 

Engushman.  Waiter !    Bring  three  bocks. 
^^     Princess  Helena  and  Prince  Stephen  enter. 

Princess  Helena.  The  dance  could  not  be  more  respect- 


106  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

able.  We  have  been  treated  with  the  utmost  consideration. 
If  we  had  remained  a  few  minutes  longer,  we  should  un- 
doubtedly have  found  that  it  was  our  conduct  that  was  in- 
correct, as  it  was  at  the  Comte's  villa. 

Prince  Stephen.  We  have  failed  to  preserve  our  incog- 
nito.   I  heard  our  names  whispered  as  we  passed. 

Princess  Helena.  Amusing,  was  it  not  ?  Those  who 
recognized  you  said:  "Prince  Stephen  of  Sua  via  out  for  the 
night  with  a  cocotte."  Those  who  recognized  me:  '* Princess 
Helena  and  her  lover — or  one  of  her  lovers." 

Prince  Stephen.  A  great  many  recognized  us  both.  I 
wonder  what  they  thought  .5* 

Princess  Helena.  Probably  that  we  were  here  out  of 
curiosity,  or  for  some  improper  purpose. 

Prince  Stephen.  Well,  are  you  satisfied  ?    Shall  we  go  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Have  you  repented  of  our  adventure 


so  soon 


Prince  Stephen.  I  was  not  thinking  of  myself,  but  of 
you.    The  world  will  be  full  of  this  exploit  to-morrow. 

Princess  Helena.  You  are  more  cowardly  than  I.  You 
realize  that  you  have  made  a  mistake,  but  instead  of  push- 
/  ing  on,  you  retreat.  You  remind  me  of  one  of  those  fantastic 
peoples  who  overthrow  a  monarchy  because  it  is  tyrannical 
and  establish  a  republic;  then,  because  the  republic  does  not 
bring  them  happiness,  they  promptly  restore  the  monarchy. 
But  that  is  not  my  way.  If  the  republic  proved  a  failure,  I 
should  declare  for  a  state  of  anarchy,  but  I  should  never  re- 
treat. I  am  enchanted  with  this  spot.  This  is  life — to  be 
here,  to  see  everything,  to  shut  one's  eyes  to  nothing;  to  sym- 
pathize, to  understand .... 

Prince  Stephen.  Everything?  Perhaps  that  was  what 
induced  you  to  fall  in  love  with  Herr  Rosmer.  It  was  not 
V  the  man,  it  was  the  opening  out  of  a  new  vista  of  life. 


ACT  IV  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  107 

Princess  Helena.  Yes,  it  is  true.  He  was  the  only  per- 
son who  brought  to  our  Palace  the  atmosphere  of  another 
world,  and  of  truths  that  were  different  from  ours.  His  was 
a  different  environment.  I  had  no  choice  when  I  loved  him 
any  more  than  the  prisoner  has  a  choice,  whose  one  desire 
is  to  regain  his  liberty,  and  who  flees  by  the  first  avenue 
which  lies  open,  which  leads  to  freedom  and  the  outer 
air. 

Prince  Stephen.  Instead    of    leading    to    freedom,  you  ' 
found,  when  you  followed  it,  that  you  had  merely  changed   W 
prisons. 

Princess  Helena.  WTioUy  to  my  disadvantage.  It  was 
never  my  privilege  to  meet  a  more  persistent  stickler  for 
etiquette  and  every  known  form  of  propriety  than  Herr 
Rosmer.  If  you  are  perfectly  frank  with  me — ^and  with 
yourself — ^you  must  confess  that  your  experience  has  been 
tha  same.  You  were  as  sadly  mistaken  as  I  in  imagining 
that  an  unequal  match  was  the  most  effective  assertion  of 
your  individuality.  We  should  have  begun  by  living  our^/ 
new  lives;   then  love  would  have  come  in  due  season. 

Prince  Stephen.  Our  experience  reminds  me  of  a  story 
which  was  told  me  by  one  of  the  oflBicers  of  my  regiment,  a 
young  man  of  the  most  distinguished  lineage  in  Suavia. 
He  fell  in  love  with  a  girl  who  lived  in  the  same  city,  who  be- 
longed to  the  working  classes,  and  to  him  the  charm  of  their 
association  lay  in  wandering  about  the  humbler  quarters  of 
the  city,  arm  in  arm  with  his  girl.  They  visited  the  obscurer 
cafés,  they  frequented  the  popular  theatres — in  a  word,  he 
became  another  person;  he  escaped  from  his  environment, 
from  the  society  in  which  he  had  always  moved,  from  the 
obligations  of  the  life  which  was  oflScial.  But  he  soon  no- 
ticed that  the  girl  was  always  bored  when  she  was  in  his 
company;  she  looked  upon  those  places  with  which  she  had 


108  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

always  been  familiar  with  disgust.  What  she  desired  was  to 
exhibit  herself  upon  the  fashionable  promenades,  to  visit 
the  principal  restaurants,  the  theatres  which  were  patron- 
ized by  the  aristocracy — in  a  word,  the  other  life;  and  it  was 
natural.  What  amused  the  one,  bored  the  other.  So, 
shortly  after,  my  friend  fell  in  love  with  a  noble  lady,  of 
flawless  birth,  and  then  for  the  first  time  he  was  able  to  run 
about  the  lower  quarters  to  his  heart's  content,  and  to  visit 
all  the  vulgar  theatres  and  disreputable  cafés,  because  they 
/all  proved  equally  amusing  to  that  noble  lady,  and  so  they 
were  both  always  of  one  accord.  I  wonder  if  our  experience 
has  been  the  same  ? 

Princess  Helena.  It  has. 

Prince  Stephen.  We  do  not  live  as  abstractions  in  the 
world,  as  fragments  of  the  ideal.  We  are  something  in  our- 
selves, but  the  environment  which  surrounds  us  is  much 
more  than  ourselves — it  is  the  landscape  in  which  we  are 
figures.  The  scenery  is  half  of  the  play,  in  life  as  upon  the 
stage. 

Princess  Helena.  Yes,  there  are  times  and  places  in 
which  we  might  fall  in  love  with  the  first  person  to  present 
himself,  without  ever  having  seen  him  before,  or  stopping 
even  to  ask  his  name.  I  wonder:  what  are  you  thinking  of 
now? 

Prince  Stephen.  I  was  listening  to  that  waltz.  It  is 
one  of  the  memories  of  my  life — a  waltz  that  Elsa  used  to 
sing  in  the  theatre. 

Princess  Helena.  When  she  was  still  a  popular  favorite, 
a  famous  actress  in  your  eyes,  not  merely  a  respectable 
woman  to  whom  the  mention  of  her  triumphs  as  an  artist 
gives  offense.  There  is  a  waltz  also  in  my  life.  Waltzes 
blend  themselves  so  easily  with  the  past,  and  remain  in  the 
memory  even  after  years.     Have  you   never  noticed   it? 


ACT  IV  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  109 

There  is  a  quick  movement  in  every  waltz,  joyous,  trium- 
phal, and  then  a  hushed,  subdued  ritornello  whose  burden  is 
slow  and  reluctant,  sad  as  the  memory  of  a  joy  that  is  past. 
When  the  lights  are  out  and  the  dance  is  over,  and  we  are 
alone  in  the  silence  of  the  soul,  the  echo  of  a  waltz  still 
lingers  in  our  ears — the  echo  of  a  waltz  that  drops  tears. 

Prince  Stephen.  What  is  your  favorite  music  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Do  not  inquire  into  my  musical 
tastes;  they  are  of  deplorable  vulgarity.  Music  appeals  to 
me  because  of  the  words  I  associate  with  it,  and  so  one  air 
is  as  good  as  another.  How  empty  a  man's  soul  must  be¿^ 
which  is  unable  to  provide  words  to  any  music !  I  am  more 
exacting  with  poets,  because  they  speak  for  themselves,  and 
in  their  case  I  will  tolerate  no  vulgarity. 

Prince  Stephen.  Who  is  your  favorite  poet.?* 

Princess  Helena.  Women  feel  very  much  toward  poets 
á!s  they  do  toward  other  men.  They  do  not  love  the  ones 
whom  all  the  world  admires.  We  single  out  one  quality, 
perhaps,  for  our  love  and  admiration  amid  a  multitude  of 
defects,  or  it  may  be  that  we  love  the  very  defects  them- 
selves, because  then  we  know  that  our  choice  has  been  our 
own — it  has  been  more  truly  ours. 

Prince  Stephen.  Do  you  admire  Shelley,  the  aivine 
Shelley? 

Princess  Helena.  I  admire  and  love  him.  He  was  the 
universal  lover. 

Prince  Stephen.  Are  you  familiar  with  his  life  ? 

Princess  Helena.  It  was  wholly  wonderful,  more  won- 
derful even  than  his  verse.  He  persuaded  his  own  wife  to 
abet  his  elopement  with  Emilia  Viviani.  What  marvellous 
power  of  suggestion  that  genius  must  have  possessed,  which 
was  able  to  unite  two  women  in  a  single  love ! 

Prince  Stephen.  Do  you  remember  his  verses  ? 


lio  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

"True  love  in  this  differs  from  gold  and  clay. 
That  to  divide  is  not  to  take  away. 
Love  is  like  understanding,  that  grows  bright. 
Gazing  on  many  truths." 

And  then  he  adds: 

"Narrow 
The  heart  that  loves,  the  brain  that  contemplates. 
The  life  that  wears,  the  spirit  that  creates 
One  object,  and  one  form,  and  builds  thereby 
A  sepulchre  for  its  eternity.'* 

Princess  Helena.  It  is  Gabriele  d'Annunzio's  "Hymn  to 
Life": 

"Diversity,  vision  and  siren, 

I  never  chose — to  choose  were  to  slight  you. 

Diversity,  vision  and  siren  ! 

The  rose  that  is  red,  the  rose  that  is  white  you 

Present  to  the  taste 

Both  as  one. 

All  tastes  are  the  same 

And  all  savors. 

All  things  pure  and  impure  to  the  flame 

Of  my  love. 

Diversity,  vision  and  siren. 

Because  I  love  you,  I  love  you,  I  love  you !" 

[A  patise. 
What  are  you  thinking  of  now  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  I  was  thinking — what  our  life  was  at 
the  Court  of  Suavia.  What  a  wall  of  convention,  of  preju- 
dices, and  of  jealousies  hemmed  us  round !  We  lived  there 
almost  together,  and  yet  we  never  knew  each  other  at  all. 
I  always  thought  that  you  were  a  frivolous  creature,  wild 


ACT  IV  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  111 

and  foolish.  Even  your  love-affair  appeared  to  me  ridiculous, 
because  I  felt  that  if  you  had  really  been  as  independent  and 
as  forceful  as  was  said,  then  you  would  have  refused  to  be 
forced  into  a  marriage  against  your  will. 

Princess  Helena.  At  that  time  I  fancied  that  marriage 
was  the  first  step  toward  becoming  free,  so  I  consented  to  it 
gladly,  as  no  doubt  you  understand.  I  had  always  heard 
that  you  were  a  dull  person,  steeped  in  useless  learning,  and 
consequently  without  any  knowledge  of  life,  whom  any 
woman  could  twist  about  her  finger,  if  she  cared  to  take  the 
trouble. 

Prince  Stephen.  Now  what  do  you  think  of  me  ? 

Princess  Helena.  I  think  that  we  might  have  been  very 
happy. 

Prince  Stephen.  As  we  are  to-night.  Life  is  strange. 
After  all  our  striving,  all  our  efforts  to  attain  happiness,  when  "^f 
the  inevitable  hour  arrives  and  we  look  into  our  hearts  and 
ask  what  has  been  the  sum  of  sorrow  or  of  happiness  in  our 
lives,  it  may  be  that  the  only  recollection  which  is  not  tinged 
with  sadness,  will  be  that  of  some  idle  encounter  such  as 
this,  which  chance  has  brought,  to  linger  in  the  memory  like 
a  high  moment  of  life,  which  we  cherish  as  a  fond  and  beauti- 
ful dream. 

Princess  Helena.  It  takes  so  little  to  make  us  happy — 
a  beautiful  night  of  deep  and  faultless  blue,  the  murmur  of 
the  sea  afar  off,  a  vulgar  dance  here  at  our  side,  with  its  cheap 
music,  and  the  mutual  confidences  of  our  hearts  as  they 
search  to  find  words  of  absolute  truth  that  they  may  re- 
veal themselves  and  trust  entirely. 

Prince  Stephen.  Or  verses  of  favorite  poets  to  speak  for 
us,  or  silences  deep  as  the  night,  yet  clear  as  this  spread  of 
lucent  sky  with  all  its  host  of  stars.  Like  stars  in  the  night, 
the  eyes  are  the  light  of  silence. 


So^ 


112  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

Princess  Helena.  Perhaps  we  shall  never  be  more  happy. 
Can  it  be  that  all  our  efforts  and  struggles  to  obtam  even  a 
small  part  of  that  which  we  desire  in  life,  are  fruitless  ?  Is  it 
that  life  admits  of  no  violence,  and  only  when  we  have 
ceased  to  hope  and  struggle  and  strive,  lets  fall  upon  us  as  if 
by  chance,  a  little  of  the  great  store  of  happiness  which  it 
treasures  .'^  If  it  is,  then  let  us  try  not  to  think,  let  us  lull 
our  wills  to  sleep,  that  life  may  bring  us  joy  or  sorrow  at  its 
pleasure.  Who  can  say  but  that  when  we  think  that  we  are 
shaping  life  most  surely  to  our  purposes,  we  are  not  sub- 
mitting most  blindly  to  the  immutable  laws  of  fate? 

The  Woman  With  the  Scar  enters,  and  runs  rapidly 
up  to  the  Prince  and  Princess.  A  Gendarme /oZ- 
lows  her. 

Princess  Helena.  [Surprised  and  startled]  Oh ! 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Ah !      Please     excuse     me 

Don't  be  frightened,  lady.     I  thought — but  it  isn't  he.     A 

mistake.     Strangers,  eh?     Foreigners? they  don't  know 

me.    I  am  sorry  if  I  frightened  the  lady.    She  is  beautiful. 

Little  Marquis.  [Calling  from  outside]  Are  you  coming  ? 
You  are  invited  to-night. 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Let  me  alone,  will  you  ? 

[Goes  out. 

Gendarme.  [Approaching  the  Prince  and  Princess  with 
ostentatious  deference  and  respect]  I  am  sorry  the  woman  an- 
noyed you. 

Princess  Helena.  No,  poor  thing !  What  a  singular 
person !    Apparently  she  thought  she  knew  us. 

Gendarme.  Pardon,  Your  Highness,  pardon. 

Prince  Stephen.  Ah !    So  you  know  then  ? 

Gendarme.  I  have  watched  Your  Highnesses  since  your 
arrival.  It  was  imprudeat  of  Your  Highnesses  to  venture 
here  alone. 


ACT  IV  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  113 

Princess  Helena.  But  why  ?  The  behavior  of  these  peo- 
ple could  not  possibly  be  more  correct,  especially  after  the 
villa  of  the  Comte  de  Tournerelles.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Stephen  ? 

Gendarme.  Superficially,  perhaps,  but  a  night  seldom 
passes  without  some  incident  which  is  unpleasant.  These 
are  dangerous  folk,  without  exception.  Three  of  the  worst 
are  near  by — the  Little  Marquis,  an  Englishman  who  was  a 
jockey,  long  since  disqualified  for  cheating,  and  a  fine  speci- 
men of  Italian,  known  as  Cosi-Cosi.  They  are  watching  us 
now.  All  have  long  records  in  the  police  courts,  and  at  least 
one  has  been  within  a  step  of  the  guillotine. 

Princess  Helena.  How  wonderful !  What  marvellous 
people,  living  by  their  wits,  by  sheer  strength  of  brute  cour- 
age, snapping  their  fingers  in  the  face  of  society,  its  moral- 
ity, and  its  laws  1    They  live.    This  is  life ! 

Prince  Stephen.  Professors  of  strenuosity,  as  we  should 
call  them  nowadays. 

Princess  Helena.  Who  was  that  singular  woman  .í* 

Gendarme.  She  is  crazy.  They  call  her  the  Woman  With 
the  Scar. 

Princess  Helena.  What  a  horrible  name ! 

Gendarme.  Would  you  like  to  see?  I'll  send  for  her. 
Come  here !  Don't  be  afraid.  Tell  this  lady  and  gentleman 
who  you  are. 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  No,  let  me  go.  Don't  you  be- 
lieve what  he  says.    There's  no  truth  in  it. 

Gendarme.  Come  here,  I  tell  you.  Loosen  that  collar 
around  your  neck. 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Take  your  hands  off  me. 

Princess  Helena.  Don't  hurt  her !  Let  go.  Poor 
woman ! 


114  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Thanks,  lady.  I'll  show  it  to 
you,  if  you  like.    Here .... 

Princess  Helena.  Oh !    Terrible ! 

Prince  Stephen.  What  is  it.? 

Princess  Helena.  Can't  you  see  ?  A  great  gash,  which 
circles  her  neck  entirely,  like  a  collar.    Where  did  you  get 

this  SCSLT? 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  I  did  it  myself;  it  was  an  acci- 
dent! 

Gendarme.  You  cannot  believe  what  she  says.  She  met 
a  stranger  one  night  at  the  Casino  two  years  ago;  he  was  a 
foreigner,  and  they  went  out  together — it  was  one  of  I  don't 
know  how  many  such  adventures.  The  man  was  a  pro- 
fessional gambler  who  had  lost  everything — we  have  plenty 
of  them  every  season — ^and  he  determined  to  recoup  himself 
at  the  expense  of  one  of  these  unfortunate  women,  who, 
naturally,  are  not  able  to  be  too  particular  about  the  persons 
with  whom  they  deal.  As  soon  as  he  thought  she  was  asleep, 
he  ripped  the  lock  ofiF  the  drawer  where  he  expected  to  find 
her  valuables;  but  she  awoke,  and  before  she  could  cry  out, 
he  flung  himself  upon  her  to  kill  her;  and  he  thought  that  he 
had  killed  her.  The  wound  was  a  terrible  one,  as  you  see. 
He  fled.... 

Prince  Stephen.  But  surely  you  were  able  to  arrest  him  ? 

Gendarme.  The  next  morning,  although  she  was  in  no 
condition  to  appear  against  him.  They  had  been  seen  leav- 
ing the  Casino  together;  they  had  been  observed  when  they 
entered  the  house.  We  had  no  diflScuIty  in  apprehending  the 
man. 

Prince  Stephen.  Needless  to  say  he  paid  dearly  for  his 
exploit. 

Gendarme.  You  will  not  believe  it,  but  when  he  was 
taken  before  this  woman,  she  denied  roundly  that  he  was  the 


ACT  IV  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  115 

man  with  whom  she  had  spent  the  night,  or  that  he  had  at- 
tempted to  kill  her. 

Princess  Helena.  Perhaps  he  was  not.  There  may  have 
been  some  mistake. 

Gendarme.  There  could  be  no  doubt  of  it.  He  was  the 
man.    We  found  the  jewels  on  him,  and  the  money. 

Prince  Stephen.  In  that  ease 

Gendarme.  We  were  helpless.  What  could  we  do  in  the 
face  of  the  uncontradicted  testimony  of  such  a  witness  ? 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  It's  a  lie,  the  whole  story !  It 
wasn't  he.    He  didn't  do  it. 

Gendarme.  Nonsense!  We  have  the  facts;  we  know 
wjiy  he  did  it.    It  seems  incredible. 

Princess  Helena.  No,  I  can  understand;  I  can  under- 
stand that  sublime  silence.  That  man  had  known  how  to 
make  himself  loved  in  one  night. 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Lady ! 

Princess  Helena.  But  what  became  of  him  ?  How  did 
he  repay  her  act  of  silence  ? 

Gendarme.  He  took  ship  for  America.  Since  then  her 
one  idea  has  been  to  go  to  him.  Whatever  she  earns,  she 
saves  toward  the  voyage.  She  is  miserably  poor,  she  is  even 
obliged  to  beg,  now  that  her  earnings  are  insufficient. 

Princess  Helena.  Is  it  possible  ?  And  all  your  illusion 
is  to  join  him  again  ?    Speak  frankly,  my  poor  woman. 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Yes,  all. 

Princess  Helena.  All  ?  [To  Stephen]  It  is  in  our  power 
to  make  the  memory  of  this  moment  even  happier  in  our 
lives.    The  happiness  of  this  poor  creature  lies  in  our  hands. 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Nothing.  You  shall  go  to  him,  I 
promise  you.  [To  the  Gendarme]  Bring  me  her  address  in 
the  morning. 


116  PRINCESS  BEBE  act  iv 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  What  is  she  talking  about  ?  It's 
a  lie.    You  are  laughing  at  me 

Gendarme.  Stop!  Do  you  know  with  whom  you  are 
speaking  ?  Down  on  your  knees,  and  beg  pardon !  And 
away  with  you ! 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Oh,  lady !  Lady !  I  kiss  your 
hand ....  I  am  going !  Going !  It  is  my  voyage !  I  shall 
never  get  there,  I  know  that;  it  would  be  too  much  happi- 
ness.   I  shall  die  on  the  ^journey ! 

Gendarme.  No,  you  won't.  You  will  find  him  and  he 
will  kill  you.    And  this  time  he  will  make  a  good  job  of  it. 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Find  him  ?  He  can  kill  me  then 
if  he  wants  to;  I  am  willing. 

Gendarme.  If  he  really  kills  you  and  they  catch  him,  you 
won't  be  able  to  save  him  then  like  you  did  last  time. 

Woman  With  the  Scar.  Oh,  yes,  I  will !  Because  I  have 
a  letter,  and  it  will  be  suicide.  And  he  will  be  saved!  I 
have  planned  it  all  beforehand.  [She  goes  ovt. 

Prince  Stephen.  What  an  extraordinary  woman ! 

Gendarme.  Did  you  ever  see  anything  to  equal  it  ? 

Princess  Helena.  Oh !     If  passion  and  madness   were^ 
never  to  sweep  through  our  souls,  what  would  be  the  value 
of  life? 

Gendarme.  Perhaps  I  had  best  remain  with  Your  High- 
nesses ? 

Prince  Stephen.  No,  no;  it  is  quite  unnecessary.  Ah ! . . . . 
thank  you.    And  good  night. 

Gendarme.  Under  no  circumstances.  I  cannot  accept 
anything. 

Princess  Helena.  Remember  to  send  me  her  address  in 
the  morning. 

Gendarme.  At  your  service.  [Goes  out 


ACT  IV  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  117 

*^^'  Prince  Stephen.  As  you  see,  we  are  known.  Our  pres- 
ence here  is  no  secret. 

Princess  Helena.  Where  shall  we  go  where  we  may 
cease  to  be  what  we  are?  Among  these  people,  upon  the 
uttermost  edge  of  society,  we  fancied  that  we  were  forgotten. 
But  the  gendarme  reminds  us  that  he  is  in  the  secret;  he  is 
watching  over  us,  to  protect  us. 

Prince  Stephen.  It  cannot  be  helped;  you  heard  what  he 
said.    These  people  are  dangerous. 

Princess  Helena.  People  are  dangerous  everywhere;  the 
whole  world  is  like  this,  and  so  are  our  own  souls — the 
eternal  struggle  of  life,  force  against  force,  the  hand  of  those 
who  seek  to  live  their  own  lives  as  individuals  in  the  name  of 
human  instinct,  against  the  hand  of  those  who  would  main- 
tain the  social  fabric  in  the  common  name  of  all.  On  the 
one  side  the  criminal,  on  the  other  the  police;  and  in  the  great 
world  as  in  this  little  world,  all  the  classes  which  do  duty  as 
police,  with  their  codes  af  morals,  their  sacrosanct  dignities 
and  their  laws,  are  able  to  accomplish  no  more  in  their  fight 
with  the  classes  which  we  call  criminal,  than  we  see  them 
do  here;  they  impart  an  air  of  gayety  to  the  dance,  which 
seems  to  be  respectable  under  the  paternal  eye  of  the  police, 
while  in  reality  the  dancers  are  doing  nothing  but  plotting 
and  scheming  to  outwit  them.  The  very  life  of  these  people 
is  to  outwit  the  police.  How  would  any  human  life  be  possi- 
ble if  we  were  not  able  to  outwit  the  social  laws  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  I  am  amazed  to  hear  you  talk.  How 
is  it  that  you  were  permitted  reading  so  radical,  so  subver- 
sive at  the  Court  of  Sua  via? 

Princess  Helena.  Does  it  sound  as  if  it  were  reading  to 
you?  No,  the  ideas  are  my  own.  I  feel  as  I  do  because  I 
have  never  allowed  myself  to  be  frightened  by  any  truth,  and 
I  have  never  become  so  enamored  of  any,  that  I  have  been 


118  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

afraid  to  see  it  transformed  into  a  lie.  If  I  could  look  into 
my  soul  every  day  and  discover  a  new  truth,  which  when 
found  would  disarrange  my  life  completely,  I  should  not 
hesitate  to  destroy  my  life  every  day  so  as  to  live  a  new  life 
every  day  with  a  new  truth.    Is  that  the  way  that  you  feel  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  It  is  so  hard  to  destroy !  Who  knows  ? 
— when  love  has  already  become  a  lie  in  our  hearts,  it  may 
still  be,  perhaps,  the  truth  of  another  heart,  which  we  have 
no  right  to  destroy. 

Princess  Helena.  Do  you  believe  that  either  Elsa  or 
Herr  Rosmer  would  have  any  regrets  ? 

Prince  Stephen.  I  believe  that  it  is  not  so  easy  to  escape 
responsibility  in  life,  nor  to  stifle  the  pangs  of  remorse.  Pos- 
sibly the  motives  of  the  woman  who  is  now  my  wife,  and  of 
the  man  who  is  now  your  lover,  may  not  have  been  altogether 
disinterested  when  they  accepted  our  love.  Yet  we  led  them 
to  believe  that  they  might  safely  build  the  future  fabric  of 
their  lives  upon  it.  If  we  fail  them  now,  then  what  of  that 
future  ?  It  becomes  impossible.  How  false  their  position,  to 
what  humiliation  they  will  be  exposed,  to  what  reprisals! 
And  our  condition  will  be  no  better.  We  shall  no  longer  be 
romantic  lovers  who  have  sacrificed  everything  to  love. 
Another  experiment,  and  we  shall  renounce  something  more 
than  our  dignity  as  Princes;  we  shall  forfeit  our  self-respect 
as  well. 

Princess  Helena.  Then the  past  must  always  influ- 
ence our  lives.  There  can  never  be  a  moment  which  we 
can  really  call  ours,  when  we  speak  and  feel  and  love  as  at 
that  moment  we  really  do.  The  dead  body  of  something 
must  always  be  chained  at  our  heels.  No,  I  can  no  longer  1 
pray  at  an  altar  when  I  have  lost  my  faith.  My  prayers  end,  ] 
my  faith  is  exhausted.  I  must  love  when  I  love,  forget  when 
I  forget.     If  I  were  to  hesitate  now,  I  should  go  further;   I 


ACTiv  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  119 

should  return  to  the  Court  of  Suavia,  I  should  again  become 
Princess.  Duty  for  duty,  respect  for  respect,  I  should  ac- 
cept those  which  are  mine,  which  belong  to  my  race,  to  my 
name.  All  that  these  democrats  value  in  our  love,  is  the 
opportunity  which  it  affords  them  to  become  Princes  like 
ourselves. 

Prince  Stephen.  The  aspiration  of  every  true  democrat 
who  foments  a  revolution. 

Princess  Helena.  The  only  revolution  which  can  be  pro- 
ductive of  good  in  the  world  will  be  a  revolution  undertaken 
by  us,  the  great,  from  above,  who  are  already  equals.  Then 
it  will  be  a  disinterested  revolution.  We  shall  not  be  seek- 
ing riches  nor  liberty,  nor  even  justice — we  shall  simply  be 
seeking  the  truth.  And  the  truth  is — for  us — to-night — 
that  we  may  be  happy,  that  we  may  unite  our  lives  and  des- 
tinies in  one,  while  the  memory  of  the  Court  of  Suavia  fades 
as  dimly  from  our  sight  as  the  illusion  of  that  bourgeois  home  . 
which,  in  the  name  of  a  false  happiness,  we  had  dreamed,  i 
Ah,  no!  It  was  not  happiness,  it  was  not  life — not  yet. 
Life,  to  us,  is  to  love  each  other — to  love  you. 

Prince  Stephen.  Forever  ? 

Princess  Helena.  To-day,  to-morrow,  a  few  hours 
longer. . .  .perhaps  only  to-night.  Who  can  tell ?  What  does 
it  matter  .Í*  There  are  dreams  which  are  worth  all  the  real-  j 
ities  of  life.  In  another  moment,  I  may  feel  as  you  do,  that 
there  are  duties  and  responsibilities  and  the  sting  of  remorse, 
that  we  have  done  wrong,  that  we  must  turn  back,  yes,  that 
we  shall  turn  back,  even  that ....  we  ought.  But  not  yet ! 
First,  let  us  talk  of  ourselves  again,  of  anything,  nothing,  as 
before.  . .  .of  verses,  and  music  afar  off,  the  blue  heaven 
above  us,  while  in  the  distance  lies  the  sea,  and  silence — 
silence,  deep  as  the  night. 

Prince  Stephen.  My   Princess   Bebé !     You   touch   the 


120  PRINCESS  BEBÉ  act  iv 

world  with  joy,  you  infuse  our  thoughts  with  light.  Life  be- 
comes more  intense  at  your  side,  and  the  soul  stretches  out 
toward  infinity. 

Princess  Helena.  Which  is  life.  To  understand  life,  to 
understand  all  of  it,  to  love  it  wholly,  and  then  to  live  it — to 
live  it  all  our  lives ! 

Prince  Stephen.  No,  not  to  live  it.  For  life  is  sad  and 
bitter,  it  is  doing  evil  and  suflPering  wrong — but  to  dream, 
to  dream  as  we  do  now.  .  .  . 

Princess  Helena.  To  live — to  dream !  Both — what  does 
it  matter  ?  To  love.  To  love  is  all.  It  is  dreaming  and  it  is 
living ! 

Curtain 


THE    GOVERNOR'S    WIFE 

COMEDY    IN    THREE    ACTS 

First  Presented  at  the  Teatro  de  ia  Comedia,  Madrid, 
ON  THE  Evening  of  the  Eighth  of  October,  1901 


CHARACTERS 

Josefina 

The  Marchioness  of  Torbelodones 

Doña  O 

Esperanza 

JiMENA 

Bemsa 

The  Marchioness  op  Vilxaquejido 
Teresa 
La  Menendez 
A  Maid 
Don  Santiago 
Manolo 
Paco 

Don  Teodoro 
Don  Guillermo 
Don  Baldomero 
The  Marquis  of  Torrelodones 
Don  Basilio 
Antonio  Campos 
Pimentón 
Polito 
Reguera 
Garcés 
Don  Trino 
;       Don  Rosendo 
Damián 
A  Clerk 
Servant 
LadieSt  Gentlemen,  Townspeople,  and  Visitors 
The  scene  is  Moraleda,  a  supposed  provincial  capital  of  Spain 


THE    GOVERNOR'S    WIFE 
THE   FIRST   ACT 

The  main  square  of  Moraleda.  As  the  curtain  riseSy  the  church- 
hells  ring  and  a  discharge  of  firewcrrks  is  heard.  Crowds 
move  backward  and  forward  across  the  stage  in  every  di- 
rection. Newsboys  rush  up  and  down  calling  *' Daily 
^  Mail,''  **  Voice/'  ^'Programme  of  ths  Bull-fight,'''  ''Names 
and  Descriptions  of  all  the  Bulls." 

Presently  Don  Rosendo  disengages  himself  from  the  crowd 
and  seats  himself  at  one  of  the  tables  which  stand  before  the 
café  opening  upon  the  main  square.    Damián  approaches 


Damián.  Good  morning,  Don  Rosendo. 

Rosendo.  Good  morning. 

Damián.  A  fine  day,  sir!  If  this  weather  only  continues 
through  the  feria!  Well,  what  will  be  it  to-day,  Don  Ro- 
sendo ?  Beer  ?  [Saluling  the  passers-by]  Good  morning,  gen- 
tlemen. A  fine  day,  eh  ?  If  we  could  only  have  this  weather 
every  fiesta!    [To  Don  Rosendo]  Did  you  say  beer? 

Rosendo.  No.    Bring  me  coffee  and  toast. 

Damián.  Coffee  and  toast  .5*  [Laughing]  Diablo,  Don 
Rosendo !    What  ever  put  such  an  idea  in  youi^ead  ? 

Rosendo.  Man  !  One  must  eat.  After  dressing  the  win- 
dow since  six  o'clock  in  the  morning 

Damián.  Busy  times  for  us  all,  Don  Rosendo.  Do  you 
open  to-day  ? 

Rosendo.  Only  the  window;  this  is  a  holiday. 

Damián.  Yes,  but  in  the  middle  of  the  feria!  You  will 
lose  money.  , 

123 


lU  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  acti 

Rosendo.  What  of  it?  I  cannot  afford  to  oifend  the 
ladies.  They  have  formed  a  society  under  the  patronage  of 
the  bishop — you  know  the  bishop  has  always  been  very  par- 
tial to  me  ? 

Damián.  I  know,  sir.  [Calling]  Coffee  and  toast !  Well, 
every  man  to  his  taste.  Excuse  me,  a  lady —  [To  a  young 
woman  who  is  parsing]  Won't  you  have  something  ? . . .  .     Oh ! 

I  see.    A  full  basket  ? . . . .     Guests,  eh  .^^ . . . .     Of  course ! 

Well,    if   you    won't [Returning   to    Don    Rosendo] 

Don  Baldomero's  housekeeper.  A  fine  girl !  They  say  she's 
the  real  mistress  of  the  house;  a  mountaineer  from  Villa- 
quejido — yes,  sir.  Don  Baldomcro  has  an  eye  for  the  ladies. 
If  she  is  number  one,  number  two  for  Doña  O,  although 
they  tell  me  she  was  beautiful  once,  yes  she  was!  But 
time  flies.  That  girl  and  Don  Baldomcro — would  you  be- 
lieve it  ? — just  between  us,  don't  say  a  word — she  poisons  her 
mistress's  life.  Yes,  sir !  What  do  you  think  of  that?  All  I 
know  is  she  comes  in  every  morning  to  get  an  ice. 

Rosendo.  You  poison  your  ices. 

Damián.  No,  what  an  idea!  Speaking  of  antidotes,  did 
you  read  "The  Memoirs  of  a  Chief  of  Police.  A  Half  Cen- 
tury of  Crime"?  An  old  poisoner,  who  always  gave  his 
victims  something  deadly  in  their  coffee,  which  it  was  impos- 
sible to  distinguish  from  the  drink,  until  one  day  the  chief 
of  police  got  down  to  the  bottom  of  his  cup 

Rosendo.  But  man !    My  coffee ! 

Damián.  Your  coffee  ?    Caramba  I    Haven't  you  had  yours 

yet?    Really,  I  have  to  laugh,  Don  Rosendo.    Coming ! 

The  toast  on  the  side  ? 

Rosendo.  Wherever  it  happens  to  drop. 

Damián  goes  out.  Meanwhile  La  Menéndez  and 
Garcés  have  entered^  seating  themselves  at  one  of  the 
tables.  As  Damián  is  about  to  disappear  into  the 
café,  Garcés  calls  to  him. 


ACTi  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  125 

Damián.  [Re-entering]  Well,  what  is  it  going  to  be  ? 

Garces.  Nothing  at  present.    Bring  pen  and  paper. 

Damián.  And  the  lady? 

Garces.  The  same  for  the  lady. 

Damián.  Pen  and  paper  for  two,  sir  ? 

Garces.  No,  no,  nothing  at  present. 

Damián.  [Calling]  Pen  and  paper!  [To  Don  Rosendo] 
From  the  theatre — the  company  that's  playing  through  the 
feria.    Not  so  bad,  eh  ?    On  the  side ....    Coming !  [Goes  out. 

Menendez.  Are  you  writing  to  some  one.? 

^G ARCES.  No.    We  are  expected  to  order:  I  can  do  my 
accounts.    I  am  not  like  most  actors — ^Bohemians,  who  know 
nothing  about  business.    I  keep  all  my  bills.     Whatever  I 
make,  I  always  save  half,  and  am  never  in  want. 
Figuring  at  his  accounts.    Damián  re-enters. 

Damián.  [To  Don  Rosendo]  The  toast,  sir.  [Calling 
through  the  window]  Coffee ! 

Menendez.  I  shall  not  pay  that  rascal  more  than  four 
pesetas  when  the  feria  is  over.  Now  he  is  charging  six  for  a 
room  opening  on  an  inner  court  with  a  bed  in  it  that's  so  big 
that  no  woman  could  ever  occupy  it  alone. 

Garces.  Don't  say  that. 

Menendez.  Why  ?    Did  I  say  anything  ? 

Garces.  Say  occupy — not  alone.  Don't  you  see?  It 
sounds  better.  Don't  you  understand  syntax?  Can't  you 
express  yourself  correctly?  How  do  you  expect  to  appear 
in  a  purely  literary  play  unless  you  express  yourself  prop- 
erly, unless  you  know  grammar?  It  is  easy  to  see  you 
were  brought  up  in  the  varieties. 

Menendez.  Yes,  and  there  was  something  doing  in  the 
varieties  while  I  was  in  them,  I  can  tell  you.  Now  what  do 
we  get  with  this  legitimate  stuff?  Five  coppers  a  week — 
when  we  get  them.    The  people  here  are  all  against  us.    They 


ne  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  acti 

won't  let  us  play  "Oscurantismo'*;  it's  the  only  show  we 
have  that  has  a  chance. 

Garcés.  "Obscurantismo''-  there  is  a  6  between  the  o 
and  the  s, 

Menéndez.  Oyhe. . .  .sI 

Garcés.  Yes,  with  emphasis  on  the  s.  Correct !  And  you 
are  to  play  the  part  of  Lucinda,  the  personification  of  wis- 
dom. I  suppose  you  understand  that  the  play  is  wholly 
symbolic  ?  Have  you  prepared  yourself  for  your  part  ?  You 
don't  even  know  what  you  are  going  to  wear. 

Menéndez.  With  our  trunks  held  for  board  in  Madrid? 

Garcés.  Never  mind  our  trunks.  Don  Paco  has  promised 
me  money  from  the  advance.  Then  we  can  send  to  Madrid 
and  there  are  our  clothes. 

Menéndez.  Yes,  advance !  Somehow  or  other,  I  have  an 
idea  that  we  are  going  to  be  run  out  of  this  place  without  any 
advance. 

Garcés.  Run  without  any  advance  ?    Impossible ! 

Menéndez.  They  say  this  town  is  very  puritanical — that 
is  proper,  I  suppose.  They'll  never  let  us  play  "Obscuran- 
tismo." 

Garcés.  Correct  this  time. 

Menéndez.  If  they  do,  nobody  will  come  to  see  us. 

Garcés.  Pshaw !    There  is  a  strong  liberal  element. 

Menéndez.  It  will  get  a  chill  the  first  night  and  after  that 
it  won't  be  heard  from.  Besides,  if  the  women  don't  come, 
the  men  won't.    Then  what  will  become  of  the  audience  ? 

Garcés. 

"Out,  gentlemen,  to  die! 
The  ladies  stay  and  pray." 

Menéndez.  The  papers  all  score  us.  They  call  us  ac- 
tresses Messalinas. 


ACT  I  THE  GOVERNOR'S   WIFE  127 

Garcés.  Oh,  people  make  allowances  for  that. 

Menendez.  They  say  the  actors  are  rotten. 

Garcés.  That  is  too  bad ! 

Menendez»  And  I'd  hate  to  tell  you  what  they  say  about 
the  management. 

Garcés.  Bigots!  Fanatics! — Waiter,  the  papers!  The 
morning  papers ! 

Damián.  Here  you  are,  sir:  The  Eckoy  The  Voice.  When 
do  you  open  ^  Believe  me,  the  town  is  on  tiptoe.  I  wonder 
if  you  are  going  to  play  that  piece  which  has  made  such  a 
sensation?  We  certainly  do  need  it  here.  People  are  very 
Pharisaical. 

Garcés.  Pharisaical  is  the  word. 

Damián.  The  fact  is,  the  ladies  have  formed  a  league. 

Garcés.  A  league  ^ 

Damián.  Yes,  sir,  and  they  will  be  against  you.  They 
have  been  here  already  to  ask  the  proprietor  not  to  distribute 
the  hand-bills  nor  to  allow  placards  to  be  hung  in  the  café. 

Menendez.  What  do  you  think  of  that? 

Garcés.  Bigots !  Fanatics !  Spain  is  going  to  the  dogs. 
They'll  rend  us  limb  from  limb. 

Menendez.  And  nobody  will  come  to  see  us !  I  knew  it 
all  the  time. 

Damián.  Not  if  you  have  a  league  of  ladies  against  you. 
Music  and  cries  down  the  street.  A  number  of  boys  run 
across  the  stage. 

Menendez.  What  is  the  matter? 

Garcés.  What  has  happened? 

Damián.  It's  the  bull-fighters — the  toreros  arriving  at  their 
hotel.    The  Hotel  of  the  Universe,  sir. 

Garcés.  What  enthusiasm !  Rome  in  her  decadence  was 
never  like  this. 


128  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Damián.  Campos,  the  torero  of  the  day.    Ah ! 

Menendez.  Who  gets  six  thousand  pesetas  at  every 
corrida? 

Garces.  And  the  fellow  doesn't  even  know  how  to  talk! 

Damián.  Really,  you  do  him  injustice.  Campos  is  a  very 
cultivated  person;  it  is  pleasure  to  listen  to  him.  He  can 
converse  upon  any  topic — politics,  for  instance,  music.  It 
is  the  same  thmg  as  reading  the  papers.  He  is  received  by 
the  best  people. 

Garces.  Would  you  believe  it,  at  our  boarding-house  they 
wanted  to  make  us  pay  in  advance.?* 

Damián.  Are  you  going  to  the  fight? 

Garces.  No,  I  detest  the  spectacle.  They  usually  send 
me  free  tickets  when  I  am  in  Madrid  out  of  compliment,  but  I 
always  get  rid  of  them  to  some  friend  at  a  discount,  and  so 
save  myself  the  trouble  of  going. 

Damián.  [To  Don  Rosendo]  Are  you  going,  Don  Ro- 
sendo ? 

Rosendo.  I  may  at  the  last  moment.  When  you  think 
how  these  toreros  used  to  slink  in  at  the  station  with  their 
packs  on  their  backs,  and  then  look  at  these  fellows ....  Did 
you  see  ?  Riding  if  you  please  in  the  coach  of  the  Marquis  of 
Solar !    How  are  the  bulls  this  year  ? 

Damián.  A  new  herd  in  the  plaza,  belonging  to  the  Mar- 
quis of  Torrelodones.  Campos  insisted  upon  it,  as  he  is  a 
friend  of  the  Marquis's  daughter.  She  is  in  town  to  see  the 
corrida.    They  are  related  to  the  Governor. 

Rosendo.  Are  they  staying  at  the  Palace?  Now  I  re- 
member they  were  in  the  shop  yesterday  to  make  some  pur- 
chases with  the  Governor's  wife.    Clearly  people  of  taste. 

Damián.  Here  comes  the  Governor. 

Rosendo.  On  his  way  to  service  at  the  cathedral.  [Don 
Santiago  enters  y  surrounded  by  a  group  of  dignified  and  elderly 


ACT  I  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  129 

gentlemen.      They  pass  across  the  stage]  Your  servant,  Your 
Excellency. 

Santiago.  Delighted  to  see  you.  [Goes  out. 

Garcés.  Was  that  the  Governor? 

Rosendo.  What  a  cultivated  gentleman ! 

Garcés.  Is  he  a  good  man? 

Rosendo.  Excellent. 

Menendez.  Then  he  will  not  interfere  with  us. 

Garcés.  Don't  say  that.  Tell  me,  is  he  liberal  in  his 
opinions  ? 

Rosendo.  Liberal  ?  In  Moraleda  it  isn't  worth  one's  while 
to  be  liberal.  Imagine,  every  year  on  the  eleventh  of  Feb- 
ruary the  republicans  unite  to  dine  together  in  this  café,  and 
they  always  eat  at  two  tables,  because  there  are  four  of 
them,  and  they  are  divided  into  two  parties. 

Menéndez.  Gracious!  What  a  place  to  come  to!  The 
minute  you  scent  money,  touch  Paco  for  the  advance. 

Garcés.  Scent  money  ?    How  you  talk ! 

Doña  O  and  Esperanza  enter  from  Don  Rosendo's 
shop. 

Doña  O.  We  have  oeen  shopping  so  long  that  we  snail 
be  too  late  for  the  sermon. 

Esperanza.  Don't  be  silly,  mamma.  You  know  Josefina 
said  there  was  no  need  to  hurry.  She  promised  to  keep  two 
good  seats  for  us. 

Rosendo.  IBowingl  Señora  Doña  O !    Señorita  Esperanza ! 

Doña  O.  Why,  Don  Rosendo !  We  just  this  moment  left 
your  shop. 

Rosendo.  To  what  am  I  indebted  for  the  honor?  The 
shop  is  closed  to-day. 

Doña  O.  Another  notion  of  my  daughter's !  She  insists 
that  if  she  is  going  to  the  bull-fight,  she  must  have  a  mantilla 
with  tassels  on  it. 


130  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Rosendo.  How  charmingly  appropriate ! 

Esperanza.  Thank  you  so  much.  Who  is  that  woman 
you  were  talking  to? 

Rosendo.  Hm!     I   don't  know that   is,   a   stranger. 

The  fact  is,  they  were  asking  me 

Doña  O.  [Looking  them  over]  Heavens !  But  she  has  a 
bad  face.    I  hope  I  do  not  do  her  injustice. 

Menendez.  [Aside  to  Garcés]  Look  at  that  old  hypocrite 
staring  at  me. 

Garcés.  Don't  you  stare  back.  Somebody  must  have 
manners. 

Rosendo.  I  hope  you  found  something  to  suit. 

Doña  O.  I  arranged  with  the  boy  to  send  home  some 
things  on  approval.  We  can  make  up  our  minds  later  at  our 
leisure. 

Rosendo.  As  you  say. 

Doña  O.  Heaven  knows  what  we  are  going  to  do  with  any 
more  mantillas!  We  have  them  by  the  dozen  in  the  house 
already,  and  of  the  very  best  quality:  blacks,  whites,  creams, 
browns.  But  somehow  or  other,  something  always  seems  to 
be  lacking.  My  daughter  always  wants  something  that  she 
hasn't  yet  got. 

Rosendo.  It  is  the  way  with  all  young  ladies. 

Esperanza.  I  never  have  anything  that  I  want,  Don 
Rosendo;  they  always  advise  me. 

Doña  O.  For  heaven's  sake,  don't  begin  talking  non- 
sense !    Fortunately  you  understand,  Don  Rosendo. 

Rosendo.  I  know  her  father. 

Esperanza.  I  never  have  my  own  way.  I  have  nothing 
to  live  for ...  . 

Doña  O.  My  dear,  don't  make  yourself  ridiculous.  The 
next  thing,  I  suppose,  she'll  be  wanting  to  die. 

Rosendo.  Doña  Esperancita ! 


ACT  I  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  131 

Esperanza.  I  am  very  unhappy ! 

Doña  O.  Don't  you  believe  a  word  of  it.  Fortunately 
you  understand 

Rosendo.  Perfectly,  Doña  0. 

Doña  O.  However,  you  might  send  the  mantillas.  Mean- 
while, we  shall  be  at  the  cathedral. 

Rosendo.  Does  His  Reverence  preach  this  morning? 

Doña  O.  Yes,  and  he  will  have  something  to  say,  too, 
which  will  be  a  novelty.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  an  out- 
rage ?  In  the  midst  of  the  feria  these  impudent  actors  come 
here  to  perform  this  infamous  play ! 

Menendez.  Will  you  listen  to  that? 

Garces.  Calm  yourself.     Somebody  must  be  tolerant. 

Doña  O.  Oh,  His  Reverence  will  be  heard  from !  He 
knows  what  he  is  talking  about — and  yet  all  the  while  it 
really  seems  as  if  he  were  saying  nothing  at  all. 

Rosendo.  I  have  noticed  that  myself. 

Esperanza.  What  an  attractive  display  you  have  for  the 
fiesta! 

Rosendo.  I  always  endeavor  to  present  some  novelty  for 
the  holidays,  if  only  for  the  honor  of  the  shop — and  Moraleda. 

Doña  O.  You  show  excellent  taste. 

Esperanza.  How  cunning,  mamma !  Look !  An  orches- 
tra of  pigs ! 

Rosendo.  Did  you  notice  the  brooches?  They  are  art 
nouveau. 

Esperanza.  Yes,  they  were  lovely.  Send  me  home  some 
to  select  from. 

Doña  O.  And  don't  forget  the  pigs.  I  can  see  she  has  set 
her  heart  on  them.    Even  then  she  won't  be  satisfied. 

Rosendo.  Hardly,  at  her  age.  Young  ladies  don't  know 
what  they  want.  As  you  say,  when  they  do,  it  is  always  some- 
thing that  they  haven't  yet  got. 


132  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Doña  O.  Good  morning,  Don  Rosendo.  Come,  Esperan- 
cita  !    Don't  let  me  catch  you  looking  in  that  window  again. 

Rosendo.  I  shall  send  everything.     Good  morning. 

Esperanza.  Do  you  know,  instead  of  those  pigs  I  believe 
I'd  rather  have  that  dog  in  the  automobile  ?   The  little  rascal ! 

Rosendo.  Suit  yourself. 

Doña  O.  What  did  I  tell  you  ?  Hurry,  my  dear !  If  we 
don't,  we  shall  be  too  late  to  get  seats. 

Doña  O  and  Esperanza  go  out,  continuing  the  con- 
versation. 

Menendez.  Are  those  some  of  your  best  people  ? 

Damián.  I  should  say  they  were !  They  are  the  wife  and 
daughter  of  Don  Baldomcro  Remolinos,  the  richest  man  in 
Moraleda.  The  girl  is  an  only  child  and  will  inherit  half  the 
province. 

Rosendo.  They  call  her  the  Golden  Girl.  Her  parents 
deny  her  nothing. 

Damián.  Except  her  marriage  with  Don  Manolito.  They 
have  some  pretty  hot  times  together — at  least  so  I  hear  from 
the  servants. 

Rosendo.  Why  shouldn't  her  parents  object.?*  Who  is 
Don  Manolito?  The  Governor's  secretary — one  of  those 
bounders  from  Madrid.  It  is  all  his  fault  the  way  things  go 
here.  Don  Santiago  does  nothing.  Beyond  question,  he 
was  responsible  for  that  last  gambling  scandal. 

Damián.  You  see,  sir,  the  secretary  and  the  Governor's 
wife. . . . 

Garces.  Aha !    Good  for  Moraleda ! 

Menendez.  And  yet  they  make  so  much  fuss  about  a  play. 

Rosendo.  How  much  do  I  owe  you  ? 

Damián.  Forty  céntimos,  and  a  beer  yesterday. 

Rosendo.  That's  so,  I  forgot.  I  must  hurry  and  send 
those  things  to  Doña  O. 


ACT  I  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  133 

Damián.  Good  morning,  Don  Rosendo. 

Rosendo.  Good  morning, 

Garces.  Good  morning. 

Menendez.  Good-by.  [Don  Rosendo  goes  out. 

Garces.  [Nodding  toward  the  rear]  The  proprietor  of  that 
shop  ? 

Damián.  Yes,  sir,  and  a  very  liberal  gentleman,  accom- 
modating, always  polite  with  the  ladies,  although  his  cus- 
tomers are  all  respectable  folk. . . . 

Menendez.  I  didn't  like  the  way  he  spoke  of  Madrid. 
Bounders !    I  am  a  Madrileña. 

Damián.  Oh,  don't  mind  him !  When  his  first  wife  ran  oflp 
the  second  time,  it  was  with  a  gentleman  from  Madrid. 

Garces.  Prejudice,  of  course. 

Don  Teodoro  and  Don  Guillermo  enter, 

Guillermo.  How  do  you  know? 

Teodoro.  Oh,  it's  a  long  story,  but  delicious!  When  I 
make  up  my  mind  to  find  out  a  thing,  depend  upon  me. 
Man !    Don  Rosendo's  shop  is  closed. 

Guillermo.  So  it  is.  We  might  stop  at  the  café.  We 
have  time  for  a  vermouth  before  the  music. 

Teodoro.  [Discovering  La  Menendez]  I  remember  that 
face. 

Guillermo.  Strangers. 

Teodoro.  Damián! 

Damián.  Ah,  gentlemen!  You  are  early  this  morning. 
What  weather  we  are  having  for  the  feria !  Well,  what  is  it 
going  to  be? 

Guillermo.  Bring  two  vermouths  with  bitters. 

Damián.  How  is  it  that  you  are  not  at  the  cathedral  ?  I 
know  you  are  not  overreligious,  but,  Don  Teodoro,  if  only  to 
see  the  ladies .... 

Teodoro.  No,  I  saw  all  that  I  wanted  in  the  Calle  San 


\ 


134  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  acti 

Pablo — the  display  was  satisfactory.  Every  day  they  grow 
more  beautiful.    There's  a  great  advance  this  year. 

Damián.  Clotilda,  the  hair-dresser,  dropped  in  this  morn- 
ing.   She  was  asking  for  you.    Busy  times  for  us  all. 

Teodoro,  That  girl  is  too  serious.  She  talks  about  mar- 
riage as  if  it  were  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world. 

Damián.  To  you  ? 

Teodoro.  In  such  matters  I  make  it  a  rule  to  follow  the 
catechism:  the  sacraments  in  their  proper  order.  Marriage 
comes  seventh,  after  extreme  unction. 

Damián.  Good! 

Guillermo.  [Laughing  loudly]  Who  would  ever  have 
thought  of  that  ? 

Damián.  Unless  it  were  yourself,  Don  Guillermo;  only  you 
do  all  your  work  in  the  dark.  Do  you  know  who  has  moved 
in  across  the  street.?*    Teresa,  the  corsetiere. 

Teodoro.  A  terrible  bore.  She  reckons  everything  from 
the  date  of  her  mishap.  "One  year  after,"  "Two  years 
after".... 

Damián.  What  mishap  was  that? 

Teodoro.  Ah! 

Damián.  Why !    She's  a  slip  of  a  child 

Teodoro.  Exactly,  a  slip  of  a  child. 

Guillermo  [Laughing]  Ah !    Ah !    Clever ! 

Damián.  Now  who  would  ever  have  thought  of  that.? 

Guillermo.  Ready  for  anything!  I  envy  that  man;  he 
will  have  his  joke. 

Damián.  We  all  know  Don  Teodoro. 

Guillermo.  I  have  no  mind  for  such  business,  but  if  you 
could  only  put  down  everything  that  has  happened  to  him, 
saints  and  martyrs,  but  you  would  have  a  book ! 

Damián.  It  would  be  on  the  index  expurga torius. 

Teodoro.  Bring  us  the  vermouths.  [Damián  goes  out. 


ACT  I  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  135 

Menéndez.  The  town  sports. 

Garcés.  Two  of  the  boys. 

Teodoro.  I  know  that  face.     We  must  ask  Damián. 

Menéndez.  But  where  is  Don  Paco.?    I  am  famished. 

Garces.  He  may  find  nobody  at  the  Palace  on  a  day  like 
to-day. 

Menéndez.  It  would  be  awful  to  leave  without  taking 
anything. 

Garces.  Order  what  you  like;  the  waiter  knows  us  by  this 
time.     We  might  pay  him  to-morrow. 

Menéndez.  I'll  have  coffee  and  toast.  The  chocolate  here 
is  dreadful. 

Garces.  Toast  ?  An  actress  in  a  first-class  company  seen 
eating  in  public  ?    Try  something  delicate.    Take  tea. 

Menéndez.  You  can't  fill  me  up  on  tea. 

Teodoro.  [To  Guillermo]  Hello !  Who  is  that  on  the 
balcony  ? 

Guillermo.  She  sees  us. 

Teodoro.  Striking  poses,  eh  ?  Look,  there ! . . . .  Feed- 
ing the  canary  sugar  with  her  mouth.  What  a  picture  that 
would  make ! 

Guillermo.  It's  a  pity  her  husband  is  such  a  brute. 
Damián  re-enters  with  the  orders. 

Damián.  The  vermouth  and  bitters.  What's  the  matter  ? 
Ah!  The  captain's  wife!  [Mysteriously]  Every  morning 
after  he  goes  off  to  the  barracks  she  comes  out  on  the  balcony 
and  makes  a  signal — I  don't  know  to  whom,  but  it's  to  some 
one. 

Teodoro.  About  what  úme? 

Damián.  Between  eight  and  nine. 

Teodoro.  I  must  get  around  some  morning  myself. 

Menéndez.  Look,  look ! . . . .  Don  Paco,  At  last !  [CaU- 
ing]  Don  Paco ! 


136  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Garcés.  He  sees  us. 

Teodoro.  [To  Damián]  Pst!    Who  are  those  people? 

Damián.  Actors — the  company  that's  opening  at  the 
theatre. 

Teodoro.  Ask  her  whether  she  was  ever  in  Almendralejo 
and  if  her  name  is  Luisa. 

Damián.  Certainly,  sir.     In  Almendralejo? 

Menéndez.  Who  is  that  talking  to  Paco? 

Garcés.  That  rascal,  Moreno.  He  is  making  a  strike .... 
Ha !    He  doesn't  see  us. 

Damián.  [To  La  Menéndez]  Don't  seem  to  notice,  but 
that  gentleman  wants  to  know  whether  you  were  ever  in  Al- 
mendralejo, and  if  your  name  is  Luisa. 

Menéndez.  [Addressing  Teodoro  directly]  In  Almendra- 
lejo?   Did  you  see  me  there? 

Teodoro.  In  eighty-four. 

Menéndez.  Noí  no,  in  ninety-two. 

Teodoro.  Right,  in  ninety-two.  It  was  ninety-two,  my 
dear  Luisa ! 

Menéndez.  My  name  isn't  Luisa  any  more,  but  it  is  I. 
Holy  Mother!  But  you  have  changed.  I  can't  remember 
you  at  all. 

Teodoro.  You  can't  remember  me?      | 

Menéndez.  Not  at  all.  / 

Teodoro.  Then  I'll  have  to  remind  you. 

Menéndez.  [Calling  him  over]  Do,  do !    I  wish  you  would ! 

Guillermo.  [To  Damián]  This  Teodoro !    Clever ! 

Damián.  Now  who  would  ever  have  thought  of  that? 
Paco  enters. 

Paco.  [To  Garcés]  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  am  sorry  to  have 
kept  you  waiting. 

Garcés.  What  news  ?    Good  ? 

Paco.  Splendid!   The  best.    Who  is  that  talking  to  Adela  ? 


ACT  I  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  137 

Garces.  Oh!  Some  old  admirer.  Adela!  I  beg  your 
pardon. . . .     Here  is  Don  Paco. 

Menéndez.  Ah,  Don  Paco !    What  news  ? 

Garces.  Good.    The  best !    Nothing  could  be  better. 

Menéndez.  Which? 

Garces.  Nothing  could  be  better  than  best. 

Menéndez.  [To  Paco]  Let  me  embrace  you. 

Garces.  Woman!  Not  on  the  public  street !  You  mustn't 
let  people  see  you  embracing  Don  Paco,  not  if  we  are  to  ap- 
pear here  in  that  scandalous  play.    Have  a  little  reserve. 

Menéndez.  What  difference  does  it  make  ?  He's  our  map- 
ager.  A  manager  isn't  a  man;  he's  like  an  author  on  a  first 
night.  You  embrace  him  without  meaning  anything  by  it. 
[To  Don  Teodoro]  This  gentleman  is  our  manager. 

Paco.  Delighted  to  meet  you. 

Guillermo.  You  must  be  a  bold  man,  sir,  to  come  here  to 
present  this  objectionable  play. 

Teodoro.  *' Obscurardismo."  We  are  anxious  to  see  what 
it  is  like. 

Menéndez.  Why  ?    Don't  you  think  ? 

Teodoro.  I  am  afraid  you  are  going  to  be  disappointed 
and  lose  your  money. 

Menéndez.  Ah,  Don  Paco!  But  you  said  you  brought 
good  news. 

Paco.  So  I  did.  For  the  present  the  Governor  will  not 
prohibit  the  performance,  as  we  feared. 

Guillermo.  But  have  you  seen  the  Governor's  wife? 
Wait  till  she  hears  of  it. 

Teodoro.  Nothing  is  done  here  without  her  approval. 
She  belongs  to  everything — all  the  ladies'  clubs  and  all  the 
church  societies.  She  will  never  consent  to  her  husband's 
prejudicing  himself  by  permitting  the  performance  of  an  ob- 
jectionable play. 


138  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Guillermo.  If  you  do  give  it,  nobody  will  come  to  see  you. 
Not  even  the  official  element. 

Teodoro.  You  cannot  count  upon  the  ladies,  and  without 
the  ladies  you  cannot  count  upon  the  men.  A  theatre  with- 
out women  is  like — what  shall  I  say.'* — like  a  jail  without 
birds. 

Garces.  An  excellent  comparison. 

Paco.  But  the  Governor  cannot  disobey  the  laws. 

Guillermo.  It  is  not  necessary  to  disobey  the  laws.  All 
he  need  do  is  to  enforce  all  of  them.  The  theatre  has  no  fire 
protection,  the  gallery  is  falling  down .... 

Menendez.  Ay  I    Don  Paco !    It's  a  death-trap ! 

Teodoro.  Who  asked  you  to  come  here  with  this  '*  Ob- 
scurantismo" anyway .'' 

Garces.  Well,  sir,  all  I  have  to  say  then  is  that  this  town 
must  have  changed  a  great  deal.  I  played  an  engagement 
here  during  the  revolution  when  we  had  the  republic,  and 
there  were  a  great  many  liberals  here  in  those  days.  I  re- 
member particularly  one  Baldomcro  Remolinos — he  was 
called  Baldomcro  after  General  Espartero. 

Teodoro.  [Laughing]  Will  you  listen  to  that? 

Guillermo.  Ha !    Ha !  [Laughing  also. 

Garces.  What  is  the  matter.?* 

Guillermo.  Nothing  is  the  matter.  Why,  this  Baldomcro 
to-day  is  the  greatest  magnate  in  Moraleda — he  is  the  grand 
seignior.  He  pays  what  taxes  he  likes,  holds  mortgages  on 
one-half  of  the  province,  has  notes  on  the  other  half,  and  he 
would  go  into  an  apoplexy  if  he  should  so  much  as  hear  the 
sound  of  the  revolutionary  hymn. 

Gabces.  The  "Hymn  of  Riego"  ?    Is  it  possible.? 

Menéndez.  He  must  be  the  man  they  were  telling  us 
about.    Is  he  the  father  of  a  very  spoiled  girl.'' 

Guillermo.  Named  Esperanza.  * 


ACT  I  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  139 

Menéndez.  Who  is  madly  in  love  with  the  Governor's 
secretary  ?    And  her  parents  won't  let  them  marry  ? 

Teodoro.  Exactly. 

Paco.  In  love  with  the  Governor's  secretary.  With  Don 
Manolo  ? 

Teodoro.  Yes.  Do  you  know  him  ?  Keen  as  a  razor — a 
young  chap  from  Madrid  .í* 

Paco.  Do  I  know  him.?*  Well,  I  should  say  so.  Do  I? 
Adela,  Garcés,  give  me  your  hands.  We  are  saved !  We  are 
the  masters  of  Moraleda — yes,  as  much  as  Don  Baldomcro, 
more  than  the  Governor,  as  much  even  as  the  Governor's 
wife. 

Menéndez.  Goodness !    What  has  happened  ? 

Garcés.  Don't  stop ! 

Paco.  Nothing  has  happened,  but  Manolo,  the  Governor's 
secretary,  is  my  brother. 

Menéndez.  Your  brother  ? 

Garcés.  Bastard  or  legitimate.?* 

Paco.  How  bastard  ?    Leave  off  with  your  plays. 

Teodoro.  Well,  upon  my  word ! 

Guillermo.  And  to  think  we  were  innocent !  What  a  co- 
incidence ! 

Teodoro.  The  early  bird !    It  pays. 

Paco.  Imagine  my  surprise  when  I  heard  the  name  of  my 
brother  at  the  Palace — the  last  place  I  ever  expected  to  find 
him.  It  is  five  years  since  we  have  seen  each  other — not  since 
I  sailed  for  Buenos  Aires.  We  began  earning  our  living  so 
young. 

Menéndez.  But  didn't  you  see  him  ? 

Paco.  No,  he  was  at  the  cathedral.  But  I  dropped  him  a 
few  lines,  and  I  am  expecting  an  answer. 

Garcés.  You  parted  good  friends.?* 

Paco.  Naturally.    If  we  haven't  written  for  so  long  ¡t  was 


140  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

it  was ....  well,  why  was  it  ?    Because  that  is  the  way 

we  are  made.  When  a  man  has  to  grapple  with  life  for  his 
bread,  he  forgets  everything.  Affection  becomes  a  bm'den 
that  bears  him  down. 

Garces.  Talk  of  the  theatre !    There  is  a  drama  in  this. 

Teodoro.  This  puts  another  face  on  the  matter.  Now, 
with  the  support  of  your  brother,  you  will  make  money. 

Menendez.  [To  Don  Teodoro]  God  bless  you ! 

Teodoro.  Nothing  can  stop  you.  With  Esperanza,  the 
daughter  of  Don  Baldomcro,  backed  by  her  father  and  his 
money  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  Governor's  wife  with  her 
influence — for  she  has  influence — and  all  the  ladies'  societies 
on  the  other,  how  can  you  help  making  money?  Eh,  Guil- 
lermo ? 

Guillermo.  How  can  they  help  it? 

Teodoro.  Especially  since  your  brother  is  so  popular  with 
the  ladies — without  offense  to  you,  sir.  He  can  do  whatever 
he  pleases. 

Paco.  No,  no !  No  offense  to  me !  Believe  me,  if  I  leave 
here  with  my  pockets  full  of  pesetas,  there'll  be  no  offense  to 
me. 

Menendez.  Nor  to  any  of  us. 

Guillermo.  Then  don't  trouble  yourselves.  If  your 
brother  protects  you,  you  are  sure  to  make  money. 

Teodoro.  In  this  world  and  the  next,  so  much  is  a  ques- 
tion of  skirts. 

Menendez. 

"When  lovely  woman'* 

Garces.  No  more  of  your  vaudeville  stuff ! 
Paco.  Adela,  Garcés,  I  invite  you  to  lunch  to  celebrate  our 
good  fortune.    Gentlemen,  will  you  join  us  ? 

Teodoro.  Thank  you,  success.    Good  luck  in  Moraleda ! 


ACTi  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  141 

Paco.  Happy  to  have  met  you,  I  am  sure.  [To  Garces  and 
La  Menéndez]  Pass  into  the  restaurant. 

Garces.  They  are  waiting  for  us  at  our  boarding-house. 

Menéndez.  Oh,  let  them  wait!  What  difference  does  it 
make  ?     They  will  get  used  to  it.    Don  Paco,  I  am  hungry. 

Garces.  Not  on  top  of  what  you  have  just  had  ? 

Menéndez.  What.?* 

Garcés.  And  the  sherry? 

Menéndez.  Yes,  but  after  the  bicarbonate 

Paco.  We  might  sit  by  the  window  and  enjoy  the  paseo 
In  this  town  it  begins  after  high  mass. 

Menéndez.  [To  Garcés]  Do  you  think  we  fooled  him 
with  those  sandwiches.'* 

Garcés.  What  sandwiches  ? 

Menéndez.  Go  on  and  eat !    Adios,  Don  Teodoro. 

Teodoro.  Adios,  Luisa — I  mean  Adela. 

Paco,  Garcés  and  La  Menéndez  pass  into  the  café. 

Guillermo.  That  was  a  discovery.    We  are  in  luck. 

Teodoro.  Nothing  was  wanting  except  the  family  por- 
trait. The  Governor  s  secretary,  brother  of  a  theatrical  man- 
ager of  a  travelling  troupe !    What  a  scandal ! 

Guillermo.  If  the  play  is  not  performed,  all  the  pro- 
prietors of  the  gambling-houses  which  have  been  closed  by 
the  Governor's  order,  will  set  up  a  howl  in  the  name  of  lib- 
erty.   If  what  they  say  about  favoritism  is  true 

Teodoro.  Of  course  it  is.  There  is  no  playing  anywhere 
except  at  Pedrosa's.  And  do  you  know  why  ?  Because  Don 
Baldomcro  makes  a  fortune  out  of  the  rent,  and  he  uses  his 
influence  with  the  Governor  to  prevent  them  from  playing 
anywhere  else.  Haven't  you  seen  the  Abejorro  F  Here  is  the 
last  number.     It's  tremendous ! 

He  takes  a  handful  of  papers  oiU  of  his  pocket,  and  lets 
a  letter  drop. 


142  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Guillermo.  Letters,  eh? 

Teodoro.  Yes.    You  could  never  guess Here  is  the 

Abejorro. 

Guillermo.  Who  the  devil  is  behind  this  ? 

Teodoro.  Reinosa,  the  proprietor  of  the  Recreo.  They 
have  shut  up  his  house.  Listen:  "In  preparation  for  the  feria 
several  large  candelabra  have  been  placed  in  front  of  the 
Governor's  Palace,  in  the  worst  possible  taste.  In  view  of  the 
circumstances,  it  would  seem  that  His  Excellency  might  have 
chosen  a  less  public  occasion  on  which  to  turn  on  the  light." 

Guillermo.  The  devil  you  say !    To  turn  on  the  light ! 

Teodoro.  Wait!  "In  order  to  insure  the  greater  success 
of  the  Bull-fight  to-morrow,  the  Governor  is  to  preside  over 
the  Plaza.  In  the  interest  of  sport,  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the 
ignorance  of  His  Excellency  does  not  extend  to  all  matters 
which  take  place  under  his  eye."  What  do  you  think  of 
that.? 

Guillermo.  No,  no,  that  is  his  business.  I  don't  see  the 
connection.    A  man  may  be  a  good  governor. . . . 

Teodoro.  And  yet  be  afraid  to  turn  on  the  light?  It's 
not  in  the  oath  of  office. 

Guillermo.  Hello !    What's  the  crowd  ? 

Teodoro.  Campos,  the  bull-fighter,  and  the  people  shout- 
ing after  him. 

Damián  enters. 

Damián.  Here  comes  Campos ! 

A  crowd  of  men  and  boys  run  across  the  stage  shouting 
**  Campos  I''   "Campos  I" 

Menendez.  [Rising  in  her  seat  in  the  window]  What  a 
figure !     What  jewels ! 

Garces.  Don't  be  a  fool  staring  at  that  pocket  gladiator. 
The  brute  has  no  soul. 

Paco.  Garcés,  don't  preach.    Life  is  no  old  morality. 


ACT  I  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  143 

Garces.  No,  this  is  art When  we  arrived,  not  even 

a  beggar  turned  to  look. 

Paco.  What  sauce  will  you  have  ?    Mayonnaise  ? 

Garc±s.  Mayonnaise  or Bordelaise [Yawns. 

Campos,  Reguera,  Pimentón,  Polito,  and  the  Mar- 
quis OF  ToRRELODONES  enter,  surrounded  by  a  crowd 
of  hangers-on. 

Campos.  [Bowing  to  the  people]  Thank  you!  To-morrow 
in  the  arena !    Thank  you,  gentlemen.    Adios !. . . . 

Pimentón.  Make  room,  boys. 

Teodoro.  Hello,  Polito. 

Polito.  Hello!    Together  again,  eh.^    The  combination? 

Guillermo.  We  are  waiting  for  the  music. 

Polito.  Won't  you  join  us  ?  Gentlemen,  allow  me  to  pre- 
sent my  friends.  [To  Campos]  There  is  no  need  to  present 
you. 

Teodoro.  Everybody  knows  Campos. 

Polito.  Two  inseparable  companions — Don  Teodoro  An- 
dú jar -and  Don  Guillermo  Juncales,  the  Don  Juan  and  Don 
Luis  of  Moraleda. 

Teodoro.  This  Polito! 

Guillermo.  You  must  not  libel  us  before  these  strangers. 

Polito.  The  Marquis  of  Torrelodones;  Señor  Reguera,  a 
great  lover  of  sport,  who  comes  from  Madrid  especially  to 
see  Campos  wipe  out  the  impression  he  left  here  two  years 
ago. 

Campos.  You  are  joking,  Doh  Leopoldo. 

Reguera.  I  should  be  sorry  if  he  was  not. 

Campos.  Pay  no  attention  to  him. 

Reguera.  We  shall  have  fine  sport  this  year. 

Teodoro.  Won't  you  take  something  ?    A  cigar  ? 

[Offering  Campos  a  cigar 

Reguera.  He  doesn't  smoke. 


144  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

PoLiTO.  No,  he  doesn't  smoke.    It  is  bad  for  him. 

Campos.  I  don't  smoke. 

Damián.  Well,  what  will  it  be? 

Teodoro.  What  will  you  have?    [To  Campos]  A  drink? 

Reguera.  He  doesn't  drink. 

PoLiTo.  No,  he  doesn't  drink. 

Campos.  I  don't  drink.  You  might  bring  me  something 
mild. 

PoLiTO.  Something  mild?  [To  Reguera]  What  do  you 
^say  to  something  mild  ?    Will  it  hurt  him  ? 

Reguera.  Something  mild  ?    What  do  you  think  ? 

PoLiTO.  I  wonder. 

Campos.  I  am  in  your  hands,  gentlemen. 

Damián.  We  have  lemon,  sarsaparilla,  fresh  currant. . 

Reguera.  How  about  a  little  fresh  currant  ? 

PoLiTO.  But  at  the  normal  temperature,  without  ice 

Teodoro.  You  are  in  the  hands  of  your  friends. 

PoLiTO.  Beer  and  lime  for  us.    And  you,  Marquis? 

Marquis.  The  same. 

Pimentón.  Bring  me  a  glass  of  rose-water. 

Teodoro.  [To  Guillermo]  Epicures,  these  bull-fighters. 
Currant,  rose. ... 

Reguera.  We  shall  have  good  bulls  this  year. 

Teodoro.  A  novelty  in  the  plaza. 

Campos.  From  the  herd  of  the  Marquis  here  present. 

Guillermo.  But  hereafter  ? 

Reguera.  He  comes  with  his  eyes  open  to  see  the  corrida. 

Marquis.  Oh,  we  all  do  that ! 

Pimentón.  What  do  you  think  of  the  little  spotted  fellow  ? 
Í  noticed  you  looking  him  over. 

Reguera.  I'd  like  to  see  you  get  after  him. 

Pimentón.  The  Señor  Marquis  knows  what  I  can  do.    I 


ACT  I  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  145 

am  a  gooa  picador,  eh.  Señor  Marquis?  I  do  well  by  my 
friends.     You  have  no  reason  to  complain. 

Marquis.  No. 

Pimentón.  Devil  of  a  time  we  had  with  those  bulls  last 
year,  pushing  the  horses  up  to  them  from  behind,  and  then 
holding  the  damn  beasts  with  one  hand  while  we  stuck  the 
prod  into  them  with  the  other.  What  more  do  you  want? 
I  know  this  isn't  the  same  herd,  but  it  belongs  to  the  Señor 
Marquis.  Well,  what  is  there  in  it?  When  you  want  to 
make  a  herd  look  good,  you  know  what  you've  got  to  do. 

Reguera.  And  we  know  what  you  do. 

Campos.  Yes,  and  that  will  do,  too. 

Pimentón.  I  was  answering  the  Señor  Marquis. 

Teodoro.  [To  Polito]  By  the  way,  that  reminds  me;  is 
it  nothing  but  bulls  in  these  days  of  fiesta  ?  How  about  the 
seven  suits  and  twenty-two  ties  you  promised  to  show  us? 
What  does  Esperanza  say?  How  goes  your  affair  with  the 
lady? 

Polito.  The  same  as  ever.  The  mother  receives  me  very 
well,  the  father  neither  well  nor  ill,  keeping  an  eye  on  the 
state  of  my  bank-account,  which  he  knows  better  than  I  do; 
but  the  girl  cannot  bear  the  sight  of  me  even  in  a  picture. 

Teodoro.  Is  it  true  that  she  is  in  love  with  Don  Manolito  ? 

Polito.  Daft  over  him  entirely.  And  since  the  Gover- 
nor's wife  has  set  herself  to  promote  the  match 

Teodoro.  Then  you  don't  believe  what  they  say  about 
her  and. . . . 

Polito.  I  believe  that  there  exist  between  the  Governor's 
wife  and  Don  Manolito  merely  relations  of — interest. 

Campos.  Don  Rosendo's  shop  is  closed. 

Reguera.  Do  you  need  anything? 

Campos.  Only  some  white  ties.  Joseliyo  left  mine  out  of 
my  grip.     He'll  be  forgetting  my  dinner-coat  next. 


146  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

PoMTO.  Oh!    We  can  fix  you  up. 
The  church-beUs  ring, 

Guillermo.  The  service  is  over.  In  a  moment  the  prom- 
enade will  begin  and  we  shall  have  music.  Is  this  your  first 
visit  to  Moraleda  ? 

Marquis.  My  first,  yes.  I  find  the  place  interesting,  his- 
torically. 

Reguera.  I  was  here  once  before  with  Rafael  at  another 
corrida. 

Marquis.  You  devote  yourself  to  the  fashionable  mat- 
ador. 

Reguera.  Well,  one  has  got  to  go  somewhere. 
Don  Basilio  enters  with  Jimena  and  Belisa. 

Jimena.  Did  you  expect  us  to  stand  and  wait  for  the  rest 
of  the  afternoon? 

Belisa.  You  gave  us  a  terrible  fright. 

Basilio.  But,  my  dears,  didn't  I  tell  you  that  His  Rever- 
ence had  sent  for  me  to  come  to  the  sacristy  ?  He  wished  to 
consult  me  about  a  matter  of  grave  importance — the  res- 
toration of  the  tomb  of  the  Giráldez  family. 

Jimena.  And  all  the  while  we  were  running  about  the  altar, 
without  being  able  to  locate  you  anywhere ! 

Belisa.  Afraid  that  something  had  happened  to  you. 

Jimena.  Without  daring  to  go  home  in  such  a  crowd  for 
fear  of  what  people  would  think. 

Basilio.  Why,  what  would  people  think  ? 

Belisa.  Don't  deceive  yourself.  The  very  last  thing  they 
would  think  would  be  that  we  were  looking  for  you. 

Jimena.  You  gave  us  such  a  shock ! 

Belisa.  My  nerves  are  all  on  edge. 

Jimena.  Thank  heaven !  I  caught  myself. ...  I  can  con- 
trol myself  now,  but  in  a  week  the  reaction  will  be  terrible ! 

Basilio.  But,  my  dears,  it  was  nothing.     You  are  un- 


ACTi  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  147 

reasonable.    Bah !   You  draw  too  much  on  your  imaginations. 
Shall  we  sit  down  ? 

Belisa.  No,  let  us  take  a  turn  through  the  plaza;  we  can 
rest  later.     We  are  ahead  of  the  crowd. 

Teodoro.  [Bowing]  Good  morning,  Don  Basilio.      Seño- 
ritas, good  morning 

Don  Basilio  and  his  daughters  bow  and  2>ass  out. 

Guillermo.  The  rector  of  the  university  and  his  daughters, 
Jimena  and  Belisa. 

Campos.  Are  those  names  or  jokes? 

Teodoro.  They  are  no  jokes.    We  call  them  Poetry  and 
Rhetoric;  the  father  afflicts  the  community  with  them  both. 

PoLiTO.  They  are  thinking  of  marriage.    They  get  no  rest 
during  the  feria,  when  there  are  strangers  in  town. 

Campos.  Whom  have  we  here  ?    A  magnificent  woman  ! 

Teodoro.  Most  extraordinary !    The  Governor's  wife. 

Marquis.  Yes,  Josefina,  and  my  daughter  with  her. 

PoMTO.  And  Esperanza  Remolinos. 

Campos.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  woman  is  only  a 
governor's  wife  ?     Why  then  do  we  have  empires  ? 

Josefina,  the  Marchioness  of  Torrelodones,  Doña 
O,  Esperanza,  Don  Baldomsro  and  Manolo  enter. 

Josefina.  Look,  Carmen,  we  are  among  friends.    This  is 
a  reception !    [The  men  rise  and  bow]  How  do  you  do? 

Teodoro.  [To  Campos]  How  is  that  for  a  corrida  ? 

Pimentón.  A  whole  herd  in  herself ! 

Marquis.  Are  you   on   your  way   from  the  cathedral? 
How  was  the  service? 

Marchioness  OP  Torrelodones.  Divine!  Everybody  was 
there. 

Josefina.  It  was  simply  suffocating. 

Doña  O.  You  ought  to  have  heard  His  Reverence.    What 
a  sermon ! 


148  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Baldomero.  It  wasn't  a  sermon,  it  was  a  sensible  dis- 
course.   How  did  you  like  it,  Josefina? 

Josefina.  Splendidly !    I  agreed  with  it  in  everything. 

Doña  O.  I  am  so  glad  to  hear  you  say  so.  Now  it  will 
be  your  duty  to  h^lp  us  persuade  your  husband  to  stand  with 
us  and  the  decent  people  in  the  community  upon  the  side 
of  order  and  right. 

Josefina.  Yes,  that  is  true.  But  men  do  have  their  ideas 
— at  least  they  have  what  they  call  their  ideas.  They  have 
obligations.    Santiago  is  not  able  to  do  whatever  he  pleases. 

Baldomero.  With  us  upon  his  side  he  will  be  able  to  do 
whatever  he  pleases.  He  can  aflFord  to  snap  his  fingers  at  the 
government.  The  respectable  element  of  Moraleda  is  solidly 
with  us. 

Manolo.  [Aside]  I  had  better  change  the  subject.  [Aloud] 
Josefina  almost  fainted  in  the  cathedral. 

Josefina.  Oh,  I  had  a  dreadful  quarter  of  an  hour! 
Every  eye  was  fixed  upon  me. 

Doña  O.  You  must  have  had  a  dreadful  quarter  of  an 
hour. 

Baldomero.  What  do  you  say  to  a  stroll  ? 

Doña  O.  No,  indeed;  I  am  too  tired.  Let  us  sit  down 
here  for  a  moment — that  is,  if  you  don't  mind  ?  [To  Josefina. 

Josefina.  Certainly  not.      [They  seat  themselves  at  a  table, 

Baldomero.  We  shall  rejoin  you  presently.  My  dear 
Marquis,  what  do  you  say  to  a  stroll  ?  After  mass,  the  prom- 
enade is  superb. 

The  Marquis  and  Don  Baldomero  go  off  to  stroll 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  [To  Campos]  I  have 
picked  the  little  mottled  one  for  you;  I  felt  certain  that  you 
would  be  pleased.     Have  you  had  time  to  look  them  over? 

Reguera.  He'll  try  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Leave  it  to  me.    You 


ACT  I  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  149 

are  going  to  create  such  a  sensation  this  year  that  hereafter 
you  will  never  want  to  kill  any  bulls  but  papa's. 

PoLiTO.  [To  Reguera]  The  Marchioness  knows. 

Reguera.  I  agree  with  her. 

Campos.  I  shall  wear  your  cloak.  I  never  intend  to  ap- 
pear in  it  unless  you  are  present. 

Marchioness  op  Torrelodones.  Tell  me,  really,  do  you 
like  it.? 

Campos.  Do  I.? 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  I  made  it  myself;  I  did 
all  the  embroidery. 

Campos.  I  shall  keep  it  to  be  buried  in. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Heavens !  Don't  speak 
of  such  a  thing !    I  want  you  to  live  and  to  kill  many  bulls. 

Reguera.  [To  Polito]  Bulls  of  papa's. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Naturally,  people  here 
are  a  little  suspicious  after  that  affair  two  years  ago.  You 
have  very  few  admirers.  But  I  get  in  a  good  word  when- 
ever I  have  an  opportunity. 

Campos.  So  long  as  you  are  there,  I  don't  care  if  they 
turn  the  whole  herd  loose  in  the  plaza. 

Polito.  The  public  admires  toreros  who  get  hurt. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  For  heaven's  sake,  don't 
you  think  of  such  a  thing — no  matter  what  they  admire. 

Reguera.  No,  better  not.    You  must  deny  yourself. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Really,  you  must. 

Esperanza.  [To  Manolo]  I'll  tell  you  later.  Mamma  is 
looking,  and  you  know  what  that  means. 

Manolo.  Aren't  you  coming  to  the  Palace  this  evenmg  to 
see  the  fireworks  ? 

Esperanza.  I  hope  so.  Be  careful !  I  don't  want  to  dis- 
please mamma. 


150  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  [Laughing  loudly]  It 
seems  to  me  I  have  heard  that  story  before. 

Doña  O.  [To  Josefina]  What  do  you  think  of  a  woman 
who  spends  all  her  time  flirting  with  a  bull-fighter  ?  She  for- 
gets she  is  not  in  Madrid,  where  everything  goes. 

Josefina.  But  what  can  we  do  ^ 

Doña  O.  She  ought  to  remember  with  whom  she  is  and 
behave  accordingly. 

Manolo.  [To  Teodoro  and  Guillermo]  Won't  you  take 
something.?    It  was  terribly  hot  in  the  cathedral. 

Teodoro.  Did  His  Reverence  have  much  to  say.'^ 

Manolo.  Yes,  he  was  very  eloquent. 

Guillermo.  We  were  discussing  bulls  and  the  Marquis's 
daughter. 

Pimentón.  Antonio  don't  know  what  to  do — take  it  from 
me !  The  poor  fellow  is  done  for.  And  he  won't  listen  to  any 
talk.  Why,  he  can't  even  sign  a  paper  unless  the  Marquis's 
bulls  are  scratched  all  over  it!  And  what  bulls!  Just  to 
show  you:  last  year  a  shower  came  up  at  Salamanca;  there 
was  a  puddle  in  the  middle  of  the  ring.  The  bull  ran  out,  the 
people  yelled — and  the  bull  stuck  his  nose  in  the  puddle. 

[All  laugh. 
The  Marquis  ana  Don  Baldomero  re-enter. 

Baldomero.  My  dear  Marquis,  it  is  the  old  story.  The 
province  is  rich,  its  resources  are  inexhaustible;  but  every- 
thing here  is  subordinated  to  Madrid.  It  is  a  calamity.  This 
poor  Santiago,  with  the  best  intentions  in  the  world,  can  do 
nothing.  Besides,  between  ourselves,  his  wife  makes  him 
ridiculous.  Not  that  she  is  bad,  but  she  is  frivolous — edu- 
cated in  Madrid,  and  there  you  know  everything  is  super- 
ficial. Ah!  I  beg  your  pardon;  I  forgot  you  were  from 
Madrid. 

Marquis.  You  will  not  find  my  daughter  superficial;  she 


ACT  I  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  151 

has  been  brought  up  in  the  English  fashion,  with  plenty  of 
physical  exercise  and  languages.  She  can  keep  books.  Her 
training  has  been  practical.  When  I  tell  you  that  she  man- 
ages the  bulls,  you  can  judge  for  yourself.  And  she  handles 
the  men,  too.  Yes,  sir!  They  are  all  mad  over  her.  So 
are  the  toreros. 

JiMENA,  Belisa  and  Don  Basilio  re-enter  with  the 
Marchioness  of  Villaquejido  and  Teresa. 

Basilio.  Apparently  everybody  has  anticipated  us. 

Doña  O.  My  dear  Marchioness !  And  Teresita !  This  is 
a  great  pleasure.    [Greetings  and  kisses]    Do  sit  down. 

Esperanza.  Sit  by  me,  Jimena.    Here  is  a  chair,  Belisa. 

Marchioness  op  Villaquejido.  And  I  shall  sit  by  Jose- 
fina. We  must  conspire  together,  eh,  Josefina?  And  with 
whom  better?  Now  don't  denounce  me  to  your  poor  hus- 
band !  I  have  not  been  in  to  see  you  since  the  beginning  of 
the  week.  You  have  guests  in  the  house,  and  I  know  what 
that  means. 

Josefina.  Yes,  the  Marquis  and  his  daughter.  I  want 
you  to  meet  them. 

Doña  O.  If  she  ever  gets  through  with  that  Campos. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Polito!  You  know 
everybody.    Who  are  those  women  who  just  arrived? 

Polito.  The  Rector's  daughters. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Poetry  and  Rhetoric? 
I  know  them;  I  mean  the  others. 

Polito.  Oh!  The  Marchioness  of  Villaquejido  and  her 
daughter,  Teresita. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  The  girl  who  is  going 
to  be  a  nun  ? 

Polito.  Her  mother  intends  her  to  be  one,  and  so  as  to 
fortify  her  against  temptation,  she  is  taking  her  about  now 


152  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

to  show  her  life  at  first  hand  before  she  shuts  her  up  in  the 
cloister. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  An  opportunity  for 
them  both.  Under  the  pretext  of  bidding  farewell  to  the 
world,  they  contrive  to  cut  a  few  capers. 

Campos.  A  sort  of  combination  benefit  and  farewell. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  I'd  better  leave  you  for 
a  moment;  I  must  speak  to  the  ladies.  They  are  beginning 
to  whisper.  If  I  don't  look  out  they  will  say  next  that  I  run 
after  the  men.    Just  a  moment,  Campos. . . . 

Reguera.  Don't  you  mind  what  they  say. 

Campos.  Do  you  know  how  this  is  likely  to  end?  That 
girl  will  get  my  name  into  the  papers. 

Esperanza.  Did  you  go  very  far.'' 

JiMENA.  Oh,  there  was  such  a  crowd,  we  couldn't  make 
any  progress  at  all ! 

Belisa.  For  the  present  we  gave  up  all  hope. 

JiMENA.  It  certainly  did  look  hopeless  to  me. 

Belisa.  There  are  very  few  strangers  in  town  this  year. 

JiMENA.  The  men  here  are  so  backward !  All  they  think 
of  is  bulls.  Look  at  Polito,  look  at  Manuel.  Why,  they  can't 
even  get  up  courage  to  take  the  first  step ! 

Esperanza.  Do  you  know,  I  could  have  had  them  both? 

JiMENA.  That  is  easy  to  say. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  [To  Teresa]  When  do 
you  enter  the  convent? 

Teresa.  Mother  is  anxious  for  me  to  see  the  world  first. 
I  don't  intend  to  be  a  saint  through  ignorance,  as  says  Santa 
Teresa.  I  want  to  know  life.  As  it  was  written  of  Saint 
Francis:  "Among  sinners  he  seemed  to  be  one." 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  How  familiar  you  are 
with  the  lives  of  the  saints ! 


ACT  I  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  153 

Teresa.  Oh,  I  know  them  backward !  But  you  ought  to 
see  me  dance  sevillanas. 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  Don  Baldomcro,  Don 
Basilic,  listen  to  me.  I  call  you  all  to  witness.  Josefina 
promises  us  solemnly  that  she  will  do  everything  in  her  power 
to  prevent  her  husband  from  consenting  to  the  performance 
of  this  objectionable  play. 

All.  Bravo!    Bravo! 

Josefina.  I  will  do  my  best.  But  Santiago,  perhaps,  may 
have  something  to  say. 

Doña  O.  Then  appeal  to  his  conscience.  That  should  be 
our  last  resort.   Vice  cannot  be  suffered  to  prevail  in  Moraleda. 

Baldomero.  We  cannot  fail  if  we  stand  together. 

Teodoro.  [To  Manolo]  A  conspiracy. 

Manolo.  So  I  see. 

Guillermo.  And  what  do  you  say  as  secretary  ?  Shall  we 
have  ''Obscurantismo"?    How  about  the  Governor? 

Manolo.  He  awaits  instructions  from  Madrid. 

Teodoro.  But  man,  a  government  that  pretends  to  be 
liberal ! 

Manolo.  There  might  be  trouble;  you  know  these  people. 

Guillermo.  Some  actors  were  just  here  from  the  company. 

Teodoro.  With  their  manager.    He  seemed  to  know  you. 

Manolo.  To  know  me  ? 

Teodoro.  Yes,    He  is  from  Madrid. 

Guillermo.  You  must  have  been  pretty  intimate,  for  he 
is  relying  upon  your  influence. 

Manolo.  Do  you  remember  his  name? 

Teodoro.  No,  but  he  is  lunching  in  the  café — in  the  win- 
dow.   Do  you  see  the  lady's  hat  ?    You  can  see  him 

Manolo.  I'll  take  a  look  when  I  get  a  chance.  I  can't 
imagine.    A  manager  from  Madrid  ? . . . . 

Teodoro  [To  Don  Guillermo]  Now  for  the  surprise. 


154  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  i 

Guillermo.  Look  innocent. 

Teodoro.  Yes.    I  say,  Polito no,  it's  a  secret 

The  hand  begins  to  play. 

Doña  O.  Agreed !    Then  it  is  all  arranged. 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  Wliat  a  surprise  this  will 
be  for  His  Reverence ! 

Baldomero.  It  is  a  triumph !    Bravo,  Josefina !    You  are 
a  woman  of  courage. 

Doña  O.  The  true  Christian  woman ! 

Basilio.  Our  Joan  of  Arc ! 

Paco.  [Discovering  Manolo]  Ah !    Manolo ! 

Manolo.  Paco! 

Menéndez.  [Jumping  up]  Your  brother? 

Paco.  Embrace  me ! 

He  tries  to  climb  through  the  window. 

Manolo.  [Holding  him  hack  and  endeavoring  to  force  him 

down]  ^Oy  no  I    Wait!    They  might  see  us.    Later You 

don't  know  who  these  people  are. 

Great  animation.    All  talk  at  the  same  time. 

Curtain 


''^^^Hl 


THE    SECOND    ACT 

Reception-hall  in  tlie  Governor's  Palace.  Two  large  balconies 
at  the  rear.  The  table  and  chairs  are  strevm  with  ladies' 
hats,  wraps,  and  other  garments.  A  Clerk  and  Don 
Santiago  in  conversation. 

Santiago.  Where  is  Don  Trino?  Why  don't  you  send 
me  Don  Trino  ?  How  is  this  ?  What  are  these  things  doing 
here  ? 

Clerk.  I  don't  know.  Your  Excellency.  I  was  at  service 
at  the  cathedral  during  the  morning. 

Santiago.  So?  That  will  do  for  to-day.  Send  me  Don 
Trino.  [Ironically  to  himself]  A  good  government !  A  pretty 
government ! 

Josefina  enters. 

Josefina.  Are  you  making  an  address  for  the  opposition  ? 

Santiago.  I? 

Josefina.  You  were  just  saying  *'A  good  government !  A 
pretty  government ! " 

Santiago.  Never  mind  about  the  government;  the  gov- 
ernment can  take  care  of  itself.  Where  am  I  to  sit  ?  Where 
am  I  to  write?    [To  the  Clerk]  Send  me  Don  Trino. 

Josefina.  Don  Trino?  He  is  busy  doing  something  for 
me. 

Santiago.  Oh !    That  will  do  for  to-day. 
The  Clerk  goes  out. 

Josefina.  I  asked  him  to  decorate  the  table  for  the  re- 
freshments. 

Santiago.  But,  Josefina !    A  man  in  his  position,  a  public 

servant 

155 


156  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

Josefina.  He  offered  himself.  In  such  matters  he  really 
has  very  good  taste. 

Santiago.  Well,  have  the  clerks  set  the  table,  cover  the 
furniture,  yes,  and  sew  on  the  machine,  too,  if  they  want  to, 
only  do  me  the  favor  to  remove  these  things  from  the  chairs. 

Josefina.  Have  a  little  patience;  Carmen  is  unpacking 
her  trunks.  Besides,  I  had  to  empty  the  armoires  to  make 
room  for  my  new  gowns  from  Madrid.  We  spread  every- 
thing out  so  as  to  get  a  good  look  at  it.  You  know  how  up- 
setting it  is  to  have  guests  in  the  house.  These  old  buildings 
are  absolutely  without  conveniences. 

Santiago.  But  where  am  I  to  receive  visitors.'' 

Josefina.  Oh,  you  annoy  me !  [Ringing. 

The  Clerk  enters. 

Clerk.  Did  you  ring  ? 

Josefina.  Yes.  Ask  the  Marchioness's  maid  to  come 
down.  And  tell  Don  Trino  that  if  he  runs  short  of  carna- 
tions, there  are  two  bunches  waiting  for  him  on  my  dressing- 
table. 

Clerk.  Certainly.  [The  Clerk  goes  out. 

Josefina.  The  maid  will  pick  up  for  you. 

Santiago.  Phew !  But  it's  hot.  I  wish  I  didn't  have  to 
wear  this  frock  coat. 

Josefina.  Why  don't  you  take  it  off  ?  Nobody  will  be  in 
before  evening. 

Santiago.  But,  wife,  I  have  to  write  to  the  Prime  Min- 
ister. 

The  Maid  enters. 

Maid.  What  does  madame  wish.?* 

Josefina.  Pick  up  these  things.  How  is  the  Marchioness 
this  afternoon  ? 

Maid.  She  is  dressing  for  the  reception. 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  157 

Santiago.  Goodness !  Tell  her  it  isn't  a  reception — just  a 
few  friends  dropping  in  to  see  the  fireworks  from  the  balcony. 

Maid.  That  makes  no  difference.  After  six  the  Mar- 
chioness always  wears  an  evening-gown,  in  the  English 
fashion,  sir. 

Santiago.  Well,  if  that  is  the  case 

Maid.  The  only  difference  is  that  if  it  is  an  informal  af- 
fair, she  wears  a  high  neck,  but  if  it  is  public,  of  course,  the 
neck  is  cut  low. 

Josefina.  Of  course,  Santiago,  of  course.  [The  Maid  with- 
draws] You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  be  taking 
lessons  from  a  maid. 

Santiago.  But  how  was  I  to  know.''  Who  would  ever 
have  supposed  that  in  public  it  would  be  cut  low  ? 

Josefina.  I  wish  you  would  keep  your  eyes  open,  San- 
tiago. 

Santiago.  Just  as  you  say,  my  dear.  Oh!  You  don't 
know  how  I  feel ! 

Josefina.  What  is  the  matter? 

Santiago.  I  have  sent  word  to  Madrid  but  they  refuse  to 
answer  anything  definite — generalities,  that  is  all.  They  say 
that  I  am  in  a  better  position  than  they  are  to  appreciate  the 
conditions;  that  the  government  lacks  knowledge  of  the  local 
situation. 

Josefina.  Why  do  you  have  to  ask  the  government  what 
to  do  ?  They  will  think  that  you  are  a  fool,  and  they  will  be 
right,  too.  Can't  you  make  up  your  own  mind.''  The  first 
thing  that  a  man  needs  in  order  to  fill  an  oflSce  of  importance 
is  character,  and  to  have  character  is  to  do  whatever  one 
thinks  is  right,  no  matter  what  comes  of  it.  If  it  turns  out 
to  be  wrong,  all  the  more  reason  for  sticking  to  itl 

Santiago.  Then  I  will 


158  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  n 

Josefina.  Do  what  ?    What  is  it  you  are  going  to  do  ? 

Santiago.  Comply  with  the  law. 

Josefina.  Comply  with  the  law.?  Don't  talk  nonsense. 
You  don't  mean  to  say  you  have  authorized  the  performance 
of  that  horrible  play.? 

Santiago.  There  wasn't  any  way  out  of  it.  The  posters 
are  up  for  the  first  performance  already. 

Josefina.  With  your  consent  ? 

Santiago.  Why  not  ? 

Josefina.  After  having  heard  what  His  Reverence  said 
this  morning  ?  After  all  the  leading  citizens  of  Moraleda  have 
come  to  you  in  face  of  this  onslaught  and  joined  hands  to 
form  a  dike 

Santiago.  Come  down  out  of  the  pulpit,  my  dear;  it  isn't 
your  sphere.  My  duty  is  not  to  please  a  faction,  however 
large — no,  not  if  it  included  everybody.  My  duty  is  to  obey 
the  law. 

Josefina.  Very  well,  then.  Do  as  you  see  fit.  I  knew  that 
sooner  or  later  you  would  succeed  in  making  yourself  ridic- 
ulous. You  will  go  out  of  office  in  disgrace,  discredited  as  a 
politician  or  as  anything  else. 

Santiago.  Josefina,  what  conception  have  you  of  the  law  ? 
They  can  say  what  they  like,  but  women  possess  only  the 
rudiments  of  moral  sense.  It  is  much  less  highly  developed 
with  them  than  with  us. 

Josefina.  That  may  be,  but  we  possess  plenty  of  common 
sense,  which  is  a  thing  that  you  haven't  any  idea  of.  What 
did  your  uncle  say  to  me  when  I  went  to  him  to  ask  him  to 
recommend  you  to  the  ministry  for  the  position  which  you 
now  hold,  because  you  were  too  inefficient  to  earn  your  own 
living — our  situation  at  that  time  could  not  possibly  have 
been  worse — what  did  he  say  to  me?  "Undeceive  yourself, 
Josefina.    Poor  Santiago  is  no  good.    He  will  never  amount 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  159 

to  anything.  If  he  goes  into  office  on  horseback  like  Don 
Quixote,  he  will  come  out  of  it  on  an  ass  like  Sancho  Panza." 
And  your  uncle  was  a  prophet.  He  knew  what  he  was  talk- 
ing about. 

Santiago.  My  dear  wife,  Josefina,  let  us  not  disturb  the 
peace  of  our  home,  even  though  it  be  a  governor's  house — 
temporarily — by  questions  of  politics.  They  ought  never  to 
cloud  the  brow  of  a  creature  so  fair  as  yourself — you,  for  whom 
I  have  toiled,  although  I  never  was  ambitious,  for  whom  I 
would  strive,  yes,  and  fight  with  all  my  might,  not  only  in  a 
governorship  of  the  second  class,  but,  upon  a  throne,  if  I 
had  one,  to  seat  you  beside  me  in  ermine. 

Josefina.  Upon  a  throne  ?  How  long  do  you  suppose  you 
would  stay  there  ? 

Santiago.  You  are  lovely,  you  are  beautiful;  do  not  for- 
get that,  my  dear.  Don't  you  think  that  with  such  a  wife  a 
governor  might  be  pardoned  something,  even  if  his  ideas  are 
a  little  advanced  ? 

Josefina.  Don't  advance,  Santiago!  For  heaven*s  sake, 
don't  advance !  And  stop  talking  nonsense.  This  is  a  seri- 
ous matter. 

Santiago.  That  is  precisely  the  reason  I  don't  intend  to 
have  you  meddle  in  it. 

Josefina.  So?  That  is  what  I  am  to  you,  is  it?  In  the 
serious  affairs  of  life,  I  am  a  meddler.^  I  have  no  voice?  I 
am  not  your  wife,  your  equal;  I  am  a  butterfly,  a  toy  who 
cares  for  nothing  but  frivolity  ?  This  is  the  consideration  I 
receive  after  so  many  years  of  sacrifice,  after  all  the  priva- 
tions I  have  endured  for  you ! 

Santiago.  Josefina !    My  dear ! 

Josefina.  At  least  you  cannot  say  that  my  eyes  were  not 
open  when  I  married  you.  I  had  no  illusions  about  your 
future.     When  I  first  met  you,  you  were  the  last  person  in 


160  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

the  world  that  any  one  would  have  fallen  in  love  with,  with 
that  old  green  coat  you  used  to  wear — I  can  see  it  now — and 
twenty-five  pesetas  a  week  in  the  Court  of  Claims.  Didn't 
my  parents  take  me  away  for  a  whole  summer  to  Escorial 
so  that  I  could  get  you  out  of  my  head?  But  I  could  not. 
No,  I  was  young  and  foolish  then,  and  I  loved  you,  I  loved 
you  out  of  pity  like. . .  .like. . .  .Desdemona  loved  Othello ! 

Santiago.  I  know,  Josefina,  I  know.  If  I  ever  doubted 
for  one  moment,  if  I  have  ever  ceased  to  merit  your  affec- 
tion  

Josefina.  I  remember  the  first  present  I  ever  gave  you — 
half  a  dozen  linen  pocket-handkerchiefs  to  replace  that  old 
cotton  towel  you  used  to  carry  and  pull  out  whenever  you 
had  a  cold.  Ay  I  How  it  used  to  mortify  me !  And  in  those 
days  you  always  had  a  cold. 

Santiago.  I  know,  my  dear,  I  know.  You  were  so  thought- 
ful, so  providing .... 

Josefina.  And  after  we  were  married,  in  times  of  trial  and 
privation,  who  was  it  who  was  the  first  to  economize,  to  cut 
herself  down  ?  I  was.  Didn't  we  go  for  whole  months  with- 
out a  maid,  without  any  servant  in  the  house  whatever? 
And  I  was  laundress  and  cook,  and  I  helped  you  translate 
feuilletons  from  the  French,  although  they  might  better 
have  been  left  untranslated,  and  I  made  all  my  clothes  for 
two  years  myself  so  as  to  appear  decently  and  spend  as  lit- 
tle upon  them  as  possible,  and  made  them  all  alike  so  that 
nobody  could  tell  when  I  had  new  ones,  though  I  never  had 
any,  and  the  worst  that  you  ever  heard  me  say  in  all  that 
time  was  that  another  man  in  your  place  would  have  acted 
differently,  that  he  wouldn't  have  been  a  good-for-nothing, 
that  he  would  not  have  behaved  himself  like  an  ass !  But 
you  never  heard  me  complain.  And  now  you  repay  all  my 
sacrifices  by  telling  me  that  I  cannot  understand  anything 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  IGl 

serious,  that  I  am  a  woman  without  judgment,  without  char- 
acter  

Santiago.  What  I  said  was 

Josefina.  You  treat  me  like  a  cocotte. 

Santiago.  Wife !   I  never  treated  such  a  person  in  my  life. 

Josefina.  As  soon  as  a  woman  ceases  to  be  honorable, 
everybody  begins  to  blame  her.    Her  husband  is  the  first ! 

Santiago.  Naturally. 

Josefina.  Why  are  women  so  foolish  as  to  be  honest? 
Why,  oh,  why  do  we  love  ?  How  often  you  see  a  woman  who 
has  thrown  herself  away  upon  a  man  who  hasn't  the  remotest 
idea  what  to  do  with  her !    What  is  the  use  ? 

Santiago.  This  number  was  not  on  the  programme  of  the 
feria. 

Josefina.  And  yet  you  talk  of  being  serious !  What  you 
do,  that  is  serious;  what  you  do,  that  is  dignified!  Is  it 
dignified  to  be  false  to  your  promises?  To  be  a  traitor  to 
your  friends,  to  those  who  support  and  defend  you?  And 
when  all  they  ask  of  you  is  a  trifle ! 

Santiago.  A  trifle?  To  break  the  law,  to  violate  the 
constitution  ?    Are  those  trifles  ? 

Josefina.  You  evade  me.  To  leave  me  publicly  exposed 
after  what  happened  in  the  cathedral  this  morning — is  that 
\^  trifle  ?  The  petitions  of  all  the  ladies'  societies,  the  requests 
of  our  friends,  the  Solars,  the  Villaquejidos,  the  Remolinos, 
the  Peribáñezs,  everybody 

Santiago.  Everybody?  Yes,  the  whole  world,  the  uni- 
verse !  That  is  what  makes  me  angry.  Who  are  these  peo- 
ple that  they  should  set  themselves  up  to  dictate  to  me  ?  It 
is  a  pretty  sign  of  morality  when  all  the  rogues  begin  to 
moralize.  Don  Baldomcro  Remolinos  shocked  by  a  comedy  ? 
Think  of  it !  As  if  every  one  didn't  remember  that  he  opened 
his  first  shop  to  the  tune  of  the  "Hymn  of  Riego,"  and  what 


1G2  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

a  shop  it  was ! — a  counter  of  decayed  vegetables,  which  was 
all  that  he  had  until  he  got  the  contract  to  furnish  meals  for 
the  jail.  In  those  days,  let  me  tell  you,  no  one  ever  thought 
of  committing  a  crime.  No,  sir!  The  provisions  of  Don 
Baldomcro  inspired  a  terror  more  salutary  than  all  the 
penalties  of  the  code. 

Josefina.  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  believe  all 
those  stupidities.'*  It  seems  incredible.  Lies,  calumnies  in- 
vented by  the  rabble,  yes,  by  the  very  people  you  want  to 
pander  to  now  with  a  spectacle  debased  to  their  taste.  You 
want  to  win  their  applause,  to  appear  popular;  but  you  have 
not  reckoned  upon  one  thing — I  shall  not  stand  by  you  in 
this  humiliation.  I  am  going  to  Madrid  this  very  night! 
To  Madrid ! 

Santiago.  Are  you  crazy  ? 

Josefina.  Do  you  think  I  can  face  the  reproaches,  the 
contempt  of  my  friends,  the  scorn  of  everybody? 

Santiago.  I  wouldn't  worry  myself  so  much  about  every- 
body. Does  everybody  consist  of  the  few  persons  who  pos- 
sess the  honor  of  introductions  to  you  ^ 

Josefina.  Everybody  is  everybody,  and  it  is  too  late  for 
you  to  change  it.  You  want  to  set  yourself  up  as  a  tribune 
of  the  people.  Very  well !  But  you  need  not  expect  me  to 
be  present  at  your  funeral.  When  they  throw  you  out  of 
office,  and  they  won't  hesitate  to  do  it,  when  you  slink  away 
in  dishonor,  hooted  at,  disgraced,  then  you  will  remember 
who  gave  you  advice;  then  you  will  see  that  it  was  your  wife 
who  had  your  interests  at  heart.  And  to  think  that  you 
should  be  dreaming  of  a  governorship  of  the  first  class ! 

Santiago.  Dreaming?  I'd  be  satisfied  if  I  could  get  a 
chance  to  sleep !     My  head  will  go  round  for  a  week. 

Josefina.  This  is  not  a  laughing  matter.  I  am  going  to 
get  ready — to-night ! 

Santiago.  But,  my  dear ....     Impossible ! 


ACT  II  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  163 

Josefina.  There  is  only  one  way  to  prevent  it. 

Santiago.  I  am  your  husband,  Josefina. 

Josefina.  Yes,  and  I  suppose  you  would  like  to  demon- 
strate your  force  of  character  upon  me  ?  That  would  be  too 
much.    No,  no !    I  am  going !      I  am  going .... 

Santiago.  But,  wife !  Josefina !  In  the  midst  of  the  feria .'' 
Don't  create  a  scandal.     Reflect. 

Josefina.  Conscience  dictates,  Santiago;  it  never  reflects. 
You  are  the  one  to  reflect. 

Santiago.  In  the  name  of  all  the  saints,  tell  me  what  it  is 
that  you  wish  me  to  do.  I  will  consider,  I  will  reflect,  I  will 
consult — with  everybody!  If  there  is  a  way  out  of  this 
dilemma,  without  breaking  the  law 

Josefina.  You  will  consult  ?  Yes !  With  persons  of  abil- 
ity, of  judgment,  I  suppose ^  I  can  tell  you  this:  they  will  say 
precisely  the  same  thing  that  I  do.  We  shall  see  how  many 
it  takes  to  make  up  your  mind.  Won't  it  be  pleasant  for 
me  to  have  everybody  boasting  that  they  could  turn  you 
around  their  little  finger  and  I  couldn't  .'*  Won't  it  be  pleas- 
ant for  me? 

Santiago.  If  it  was  not  for  you,  do  you  suppose  that  I 
would  hesitate  for  one  moment?  It  is  only  for  you  that  I 
search  and  pray,  yes,  pray,  that  there  may  be  some  legal 
way  to  violate  the  law,  for  we  are  in  Spain,  thank  God,  and 
there  must  be  one.  But  don't  talk  about  going  to  Madrid 
and  don't  cry !  Don't  reproach  me.  Look !  Your  hair  is 
falling  down,  and  you  have  crumpled  your  dress. 

Josefina.  What  do  I  care  about  my  dress?  I  am  not 
thinking  about  my  clothes.  Why  do  I  wear  clothes  anyway  ? 
So  that  you  may  look  decently  and  present  a  proper  appear- 
ance before  the  people.  For  the  very  same  reason  that  I  used 
to  put  on  my  apron  and  go  down  into  the  kitchen,  and  do 
whatever  there  was  to  be  done  about  the  house. 

Santiago.  I  know,  my  dear,  I  know.     And  there  never 


164  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

were  such  meals  as  when  you,  with  your  own  royal  hands, 
prepared  our  simple  fare. 

Josefina.  Really?  Do  you  mean  it?  Then  Governor's 
wife  that  I  am,  I  shall  put  on  my  apron  and  go  down  into  the 
kitchen,  and  bring  back  again  those  happy  days. 

Santiago.  So  much  happier,  so  much  more  tranquil  than 
now! 

Josefina.  What  is  the  use  of  poetizing  at  a  distance? 
You  forget  the  disappointments,  the  humiliations,  the  black 
hours  that  we  went  through  in  Madrid.  And  I  want  you  to 
remember  them  and  to  keep  them  always  in  mind,  so  as  to 
frighten  you  out  of  the  danger  of  losing  in  a  moment  what  it 
has  cost  us  so  many  years  to  attain. 

Santiago.  It  is  true.    There  were  black  hours. 

Josefina.  And  who  encouraged  you?  Who  animated 
you  ?    Who  always  gave  you  advice  ? 

Santiago.  You,  you !  You  always  gave  me  advice.  You 
are  right.  I  don't  know  how  I  came  to  be  so  foolish  as  to 
displease  you.  I'll  do  whatever  you  wish,  without  consulting 
anybody.  Does  that  satisfy  you  ?  Now  do  I  appreciate  you 
at  your  true  worth  ?    Now  do  I  deserve  your  love  ? 

Josefina.  Yes,  yes !  Now  you  do !  And  you  will  see  that 
I  know  how  to  reward  you.    I  am  satisfied.    How  easy  it  is 

to  satisfy  me ! Embrace  me.    Ah !     Again How 

good  you  are  at  heart,  and  how  I  love  you ! 

Santiago.  It  is  so  long  since  you  have  embraced  me — not 
since  my  inauguration. 

Josefina.  Nonsense !  Since  your  inauguration  ?  Suppose 
somebod}'^  should  hear  you  say  that ! 

Santiago.  I  mean  a  real,  spontaneous  embrace.  Well,  my 
dear,  I  will  see  what  I  can  do.  [He  rings. 

Josefina.  Yes,  at  once. 

Santiago.  But  I  must  legalize  the  blow.     [The  Clerk 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  165 

enters]  Send  me  Don  Trino.  Tell  him  to  drop  whatever  he 
is  doing  and  come  immediately.  [The  Clerk  goes  out]  If 
there  is  a  riot,  if  the  people  rise  against  me,  let  him  who  is 
without  a  wife  cast  the  first  stone. 

Josefina.  What  is  the  use  of  talking  about  riots?  The 
people  are  like  women.  They  need  a  man  of  character  to 
dominate  them,  by  force  if  necessary. 

Santiago.  Why  didn't  you  begin  with  that  proposition  ? 

Josefina.  You'll  be  saying  next  that  you  never  do  any- 
thing but  what  I  tell  you;  that  I  am  the  real  Governor. 

Santiago.  No,  no !    What  have  I  to  say  anyway  ?    Let  us 
not  begin  another  discussion. 
Don  Trino  enters. 

Trino.  What  does  the  señora  wish? 

Santiago.  It  is  not  the  señora,  this  time  it  is  I.  Some- 
times it  has  to  be  I.    Sit  down. 

Trino.  If  it  is  nothing  very  urgent,  sir,  I  should  like  to 
finish  the  shield  and  the  towers 

Santiago.  What  shield  and  what  towers  ? 

Trino.  The  coat  of  arms  of  the  province,  sir,  which  I  am 
constructing  entirely  of  flowers — to  be  placed  in  the  middle 
of  the  table  at  the  supper  this  evening.  Your  Excellency's 
initials  on  one  side  and  those  of  your  worthy  spouse  on  the 
other.     Very  beautiful,  sir,  very  beautiful ! 

Josefina.  Did  you  do  all  that  yourself,  Don  Trino?  It 
is  a  pity  to  put  you  to  so  much  trouble. 

Trino.  If  one  possesses  talent,  señora,  it  is  his  duty  to 
display  it  when  occasion  requires.  You  have  guests  to-liight 
from  Madrid,  and  I  am  anxious  that  they  should  see  that 
here,  too,  we  are  lovers  of  art. 

Santiago.  Sit  down,  Don  Trino.  I  shall  be  ready  to  dic- 
tate in  a  moment.    Then  you  can  finish  the  towers. 

Josefina.  It  won't  detain  you  long. 


166  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  n 

Santiago.  Yours  is  the  only  handwriting  that  is  legible 
in  the  house. 

Trino.  True,  Your  Excellency,  though  self-praise  does 
not  become  me,  but  the  seventy-two  governors  who  have  oc- 
cupied the  Palace  during  the  twenty  years  I  have  lived  in  it, 
have  always  valued  my  services  highly.  I  say  nothing  of 
their  wives,  who  continually  send  me  presents.  When  it 
comes  to  a  question  of  repairing  umbrellas,  or  mending  china, 
or  any  little  handiness  about  the  house,  or  entertaining  the 
children  with  the  latest  toys,  or  preparing  a  special  kind  of 
starch  for  the  wash,  a  secret  which  I  had  from  some  nuns, 
who  as  a  particular  favor  passed  it  on  to  an  aunt  of  mine, 
who  brought  me  up,  a  sister  of  my  father,  sir,  who  is  now  in 
glory,  God  keep  him,  sir 

Santiago.  Don  Trino,  this  is  a  very  urgent  matter. 

Trino.  I  beg  your  pardon,  but  since  the  señora  was  listen- 
ing with  such  interest.  ... 

Josefina.  I  ?    I  was  thinking  of  something  else. 

Trino.  You  will  never  find  me  backward  with  the  pen. 

Santiago.  Don't  construct  so  many  bouquets  for  yourself. 

Trino.  As  you  say,  sir.  Ah!  before  I  forget  it;  the  re- 
freshments  

Josefina.  What  is  the  matter  ?    Haven't  they  come  ? 

Trino.  Sí,  señora.  But  the  fact  is  they  were  ordered  from 
the  Café  of  the  Four  Nations 

Santiago.  As  is  usual. 

Trino.  I  beg  your  pardon.  As  is  usual  during  liberal  ad- 
ministrations, for  the  proprietor  is  a  leading  liberal;  but  dur- 
ing conservative  administrations  the  order  is  always  placed 
with  the  Café  de  Europa,  whose  proprietor  is  a  conservative, 
and  he  has  taken  great  offense,  in  my  judgment  with  good 
reason,  sir,  for  he  has  made  many  sacrifices  for  the  party 

Santiago.  I  didn't  know  that  when  I  gave  the  order. 


\ 

\    ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  167 

Josefina.  Of  course,  you  didn't  know — as  is  usual ! 

Santiago.  Come,  come!  Let  us  not  begin  another  dis- 
cussion over  refreshments. 

Tbino.  I  hope  not,  sir.  With  your  permission — although 
without  consulting  you — I  knew  I  might  count  upon  your 
approval — I  have  effected  a  compromise.  I  have  ordered  the 
ices  from  the  Café  of  the  Four  Nations,  and  the  creams  from 
the  Café  de  Europa,  so  that  in  this  way  I  have  established  a 
precedent,  for  in  my  opinion,  sir,  subject  to  your  approval, 
a  political  question  ought  not  to  be  made  out  of  the  serving 
of  ice-cream.  You  will  dictate  when  you  are  ready,  sir. 
Don  Santiago  begins  to  dictate.     Voices  outside, 

Josefina.  Who  is  coming  at  this  hour? 
Esperanza  enters. 

Josefina.  So  early,  my  dear.?    And  alone.'* 

Esperanza.  [Weeping y  flinging  herself  into  the  arms  of 
Josefina]  Oh,  Josefina !    I  am  utterly  miserable ! 

Josefina.  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ? 

Santiago.  What  has  happened.?^  [To  Don  Trino]  Just  a 
moment,  just  a  moment. . . . 

Josefina.  Have  you  had  another  tiff  with  papa  and  mam- 
ma? 

Esperanza.  I  have  no  papa,  I  have  no  mamma,  I  have 
nobody  in  all  the  world,  but  you ! 

Santiago.  My  child ! . . . . 

Josefina.  Nonsense !    Up  to  her  old  tricks. 

Trino.  [To  Don  Santiago,  who  pays  no  attention  to  him] 
If  you  don't  mind,  sir,  if  you  don't  mind,  I  think  I  might 
finish  the  shield  and  the  towers.  . . . 

Santiago.  [Absorbed]  Yes,  yes. ...     Of  course! 
Don  Trino  goes  out. 

Santiago.  [To  Esperanza]  But  what  is  the  trouble.^ 
How  is  it  that  you  are  alone  ? 


168  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

Esperanza.  I  am  not  alone;  the  maid  brought  me.  And 
I  am  gomg  to  stay  with  you  forever!  Our  house  is  worse 
than  the  Inquisition. 

Josefina.  No,  Esperanza 

Santiago.  If  we  didn't  know  better,  we  might  think  you 
were  one  of  the  martyrs. 

Esperanza.  How  little  outsiders  can  tell !  Papa  has  done 
nothing  all  day  but  buy  me  presents. 

Josefina.  Horrible! 

Esperanza.  Yes,  I  knew  you  would  laugh  at  me.  When- 
ever papa  buys  me  presents,  it  is  because  he  means  to  do 
something  unpleasant,  and  he  wants  to  get  me  into  good 
humor  beforehand. 

Josefina.  Have  you  found  out  what  it  is  that  he  is  go- 
ing to  do  ? 

Esperanza.  Have  I.''  This  afternoon  he  called  me  into 
his  study,  and  he  said  to  me,  he  said  to  me 

Josefina.  Go  on. 

Esperanza.  "Esperanza,  my  dear  daughter" — whenever 
papa  calls  me  his  dear  daughter,  it  is  always  because  he 
means  to  do  something  unpleasant — "my  dear  daughter,  I 
would  not  for  the  world  displease  you  in  anything.'* 

Josefina.  Of  course  not. 

Esperanza.  Wait!  "Do  you  love  Polito  or  do  you  love 
Manolo.?*  Decide.  Choose  for  yourself  and  let  us  not  have 
any  more  of  this  coquetry,  playing  off  one  against  the  other 
and  making  both  yourself  and  your  parents  ridiculous." 

Santiago.  There  is  some  sense  in  what  he  says. 

Esperanza.  Is  there  any  sense  in  his  telling  me  to  make 
up  my  mind  without  anybody's  giving  me  any  advice,  with- 
out its  being  anything  to  anybody  whether  I  am  unhappy 
afterward  or  not  for  the  rest  of  my  life  ?  Then  if  I  complain, 
they  will  say:  "You  did  it  yourself;  it  was  your  own  fault." 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  169 

Santiago.  That  would  be  a  predicament. 

Josefina.  Between  ourselves,  which  do  you  prefer? 
Polito  or  Manolo  ? 

Esperanza.  How  can  I  tell  ? 

Josefina.  Did  you  leave  word  that  you  were  coming  with 
mamma  ? 

Esperanza.  That  would  have  been  a  nice  thing  to  do! 
You  should  have  seen  the  state  mamma  was  in  when  she 
heard  that  Don  Santiago  had  given  permission  for  the  per- 
formance of  the  play. 

Santiago.  You  don't  say  so  ?    But  if  I That  reminds 

me.     Don  Trino !     Where  is  Don  Trino  ?     [He  rings.     The 
Clerk  enters]  Send  me  Don  Trino.  [The  Clerk  goes  out. 

Josefina.  What  did  your  mother  say  ? 

Esperanza.  Oh,  you  will  find  out  soon  enough!  The 
Marchioness  saw  the  posters  in  the  street,  so  she  knew  that 
you  had  broken  your  promise,  and  His  Reverence  has  given 
orders  to  find  out  who  is  responsible,  so  as  to  fix  the  blame, 
and  the  ladies  are  all  angry,  so  nobody  is  coming  to  the  re- 
ception this  evening,  and  when  they  pass  you  on  the  street 
they  are  going  to  cut  you  as  if  they  didn't  know  you  at  all. 

Josefina.  [To  Santiago]  Now  see  what  you  have  done! 
Didn't  I  tell  you  ?  We  are  in  a  nice  fix.  But,  if  this  should 
not  be  so,  if  it  is  all  a  mistake.^  [To  Santiago]  Leave  me! 
Don't  speak  to  me !  I  shall  write  at  once  to  the  Marchioness 
and  explain  everything.  [She  seats  herself  at  the  desk  and  be- 
gins to  write.  To  Santiago]  And  you !  Why  don't  you  give 
that  order  ?    Do  you  want  me  to  do  it  myself  ? 

Santiago.  That  would  be  the  last  straw.    At  once !    Don 

Trino !    Don  Trino !    I  suppose  I  shall  have  to  find  him 

[Don  Santiago  goes  out. 

Josefina.  [Withovt  looking  up]  What  did  the  Marchion- 
ess say  ?    Was  she  much  put  out  ? 


170  THE   GOVERNOR'S   WIFE  act  ii 

Esperanza.  Was  she?  I  was  so  sorry  for  you,  Josefina. 
You  know  how  I  love  you. 

Josefina.  I  know,  my  dear. 

Esperanza.  And  it  isn't  your  fault,  is  it,  if  your  husband 
will  do  what  he  pleases  ^ 

Josefina.  Certainly  not.  What  can  you  do  with  a  man 
anyway.^  You  will  find  out  when  you  get  married.  They 
do  whatever  they  like.     Pardon  a  moment.  .  .  . 

[She  continues  to  write. 
The  Marchioness  of  Torrelodones  enters. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Hello,  Esperancita!  I 
am  all  dressed.    Isn't  mamma  coming  to  see  the  fireworks  ^ 

Esperanza.  I  don't  know. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Do  you  expect  many 
people,  Josefina  .^^ 

Josefina.  I  couldn't  say.  Pardon,  I  shall  be  done  in  a 
moment.  ... 

Esperanza.  Probably  nobody  will  come. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Nobody!  Heavens! 
What  is  the  complication .^^  Anything  new.?*  The  trouble 
about  the  theatre.?* 

Josefina  and  Esperanza  both  speak  at  the  same  time. 

Josefina.  Another  blunder  of  Santiago's.    Imagine 

Esperanza.  A  mistake  of  the  Marchioness's  who  has  mud- 
dled up  everything 

Josefina.  Without  realizing  what  he  was  doing,  he  gave 
permission 

Esperanza.  And  the  Marchioness  says  that  Josefina  has 
been  false  to  her  word 

Josefina.  And  so  nobody  is  coming  this  evening. 

Meanwhile  Don  Santiago  Aoó*  re-entered^  preparing  to 
resuTne  the  dictation,  hut  because  oj  the  conversation 
he  is  unable  to  proceed. 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  171 

Santiago.  If  you  will  be  so  kind. . . .    Just  a  moment 

Let  me  see,  where  were  we? 

Trino.  What  is  this  ?    I  didn't  write  this. 

Santiago.  Give  it  to  me.  [Reading]  "My  dear  Mar- 
chioness, I  hasten  to  apologize" [To  the  others]  And  on 

the  other  side  my  letter  to  the  Ministry !  Josefina,  this  mix- 
ing of  public  and  private  business  is  intolerable.  [To  Don 
Trino]  Come  with  me. 

Josefina.  No,  no,  we  had  better  go.  Don't  tear  up  that 
letter;  I  will  copy  it. 

Santiago.  No,  let  him  copy  the  despatch 

Josefina.  Couldn't  you  have  given  the  order  without  say- 
ing anything  about  it  to  the  Ministry  ? 

Santiago.  Yes,  it  is  more  important  to  make  explanations 
to  the  Marchioness.     Copy  the  despatch,  Don  Trino. 

Trino.  [With  politesse]  The  señora  may  take  the  litter  if 
she  wishes;  I  remember  perfectly  the  terms  of  the  despatch. 

Santiago.  Here,  take  it.  [To  Josefina]  I  beg  your  par- 
don. Carmen;  but  these  festivals. . . .     What  a  festival ! 

Josefina.  And  all  because  you  lack  character ! 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  These  provincials  are 
impossible.     Give  me  Madrid. 

Josefina.  Talk  about  liberty !  You  can  do  what  you  please 
there. 

Esperanza.  When  I  get  married  I  am  going  straight  to 
Madrid. 

Josefina,  the  Marchioness  of  Torrelodones  and 
Esperanza  go  outy  conversing  busily. 

Santiago.  What  can  you  do  with  a  woman  anyway  ? 

Trino.  Women  are  the  gentler  sex,  sir.  We  pass  agree- 
able moments  with  them,  but  when  it  comes  to  business — 
Let  me  see.  Where  did  \ye  leave  off  ?  [Reading]  "In  a  fright- 
ful commotion".  ... 


172  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

Santiago.  That's  it.     "In  a  frightful  commotion** 

[Dwtating]  A  strenuous  protest  was  registered 

Don  Baldomero  enters. 

Baldomero.  Señor  Don  Santiago! 

Santiago.  Don  Baldomero !  My  friend !  To  what  am  I 
indebted  for  this  honor  ? 

Baldomero.  Is  Esperanza  with  you  ? 

Santiago.  Yes;  that  is. . . .    Did  you  wish  to  see  her.? 

Baldomero.  No,  no !    Go  on,  go  on ... . 

Santiago.  Not  before  him !  [To  Don  Trino]  Wait  in  the 
study;  I  shall  be  with  you  in  a  moment. 

Trino.  The  wine  is  in  the  study,  sir. 

Santiago.  Then  dispose  of  it  at  once.  [Don  Trino  goes 
out]  At  your  service,  Don  Baldomero. 

Baldomero.  At  my  service,  Don  Santiago,  at  my  service ! 
Perhaps  you  will  explain  to  me  first  whether  to  juggle  with 
your  promises,  to  be  false  to  your  word  is  to  be  at  my  ser- 
vice ? 

Santiago.  Calm  yourself  and  everybody  as  my  wife  says, 
Don  Baldomero.  At  this  moment  I  am  sending  a  despatch  to 
the  ministry,  prefacing  it  at  the  same  time  by  a  telegram, 
announcing  the  prohibition  of  ''Obscurantismo.'' 

Baldomero.  Then  how  is  it  that  they  have  posted  the 
bills.?  Why  are  they  selling  tickets  at  the  box-office.?  For 
they  are  selling  tickets.  On  my  way  here  I  saw  the  line  my- 
self. 

Santiago.  Is  there  a  line?  I  thought  you  said  nobody 
would  go  ? 

Baldomero.  There  is  a  line,  that  is  true;  but  of  what  peo- 
ple! 

Santiago.  The  fact  is,  I  did  issue  a  permit.  Now,  if  it  is 
withdrawn  you  are  responsible — you  and  your  friends.  I 
shall  resign  my  office  into  the  hands  of  the  captain-general. 
Oh,  if  it  were  only  so  easy  to  resign  one's  wife ! 


ACTii  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  173 

Baldomero.  I  should  not  think  of  such  a  thing.  The  law- 
abiding  element  is  solidly  with  you. 

Santiago.  That  may  be,  but  the  art  of  government  con- 
sists in  having  with  you  the  non-law-abiding  element. 

Baldomero.  Let  me  tell  you,  Don  Santiago,  wit  in  a  gov- 
ernor is  entirely  out  of  place.  Where  is  your  secretary,  Don 
Manolo  ?    Hasn't  he  come  to-day  ? 

Santiago.  I  don't  know.    I  will  see.  [He  rings. 

Baldomero.  He  is  a  man  it  is  well  to  keep  an  eye  on. 
The  Clerk  enters. 

Santiago.  Has  Don  Manolo  come  in  ? 

Clerk.  I  think  so,  sir.  He  was  just  here  with  a  strange 
gentleman. 

Santiago.  Tell  him  that  Don  Baldomero  would  like  to  see 
him.  [The  Clerk  goes  out]  You  say  that  he  is  a  man  it  is 
well  to  keep  an  eye  on  ?  I  suppose  because  he  is  paying  at- 
tention to  your  daughter  ?  I  might  warn  you  that  at  present 
his  prospects  are  not  very  bright;  his  position  is  a  humble  one. 
But  he  is  honest,  industrious 

Baldomero.  I  am  delighted  to  know  your  opinion. 

Santiago.  You  will  find  him  extremely  handy  about  the 
house. 

Baldomero.  So  I  understand  from  your  wife. 

Santiago.  Yes,  of  course.    Ah !    Here  he  comes. 
Manolo  enters. 

Manolo.  Gentlemen 

Baldomero.  My  dear  Manolito!  Come  to  me.  You 
know  how  highly  I  value  your  abilities. 

Manolo.  I  know,  sir. 

Santiago.  Don  Baldomero  wishes  to  speak  with  you.  I 
have  this  business  to  attend  to. 

Manolo.  About  the  theatre  ? 

Santiago.  Yes.  Absolute  prohibition !  It  is  necessary  to 
show  character. 


174  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

Manolo.  Prohibition? 

Baldomero.  Yes,  man,  yes.     Prohibition ! 

Santiago.  [Alarmed]  Why,  don't  you  think Doesn't 

it  seem  to  you .... 

Manolo.  No,  no,  I  don't  think.  You  have  reasons  of 
your  own,  no  doubt.    At  your  disposition,  Don  Baldomero. 

Baldomero.  Sit  down,  my  son;  sit  down. 

Manolo.  [Aside  to  Don  Santiago]  How  affable ! 

Santiago.  [To  Manolo]  You  are  making  progress.  He 
wants  to  speak  with  you  alone.    What  luck !    Pardon  me .... 

[Don  Santiago  retires. 

Manolo.  How  is  it  that  after  having  given  permission,  he 
now  retracts  it  ?    That  will  put  him  in  a  pretty  position. 

Baldomero.  If  I  were  you,  I  wouldn't  concern  myself 
about  it.  You  are  not  responsible — especially  since  you 
won't  be  here  when  the  performance  takes  place. 

Manolo.  I  won't  be  here.^^ 

Baldomero.  No,  as  you  are  going  away  beforehand. 

Manolo.  I  ?    Going  away  ?    Who  told  you  so  ? 

Baldomero.  Nobody.  I  am  telling  you.  You  are  going 
because  I  wish  it,  because  it  is  not  convenient  for  me  to  have 
you  stay. 

Manolo.  You  are  not  speaking  seriously. 

Baldomero.  It  is  necessary  to  be  frank  with  you;  for  that 
reason  I  speak  seriously. 

Manolo.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me 

Baldomero.  It  is  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world.  All  you 
have  to  do  is  to  resign  your  position,  upon  any  pretext  which 
may  occur  to  you  at  the  moment,  pack  your  trunk,  and  re- 
turn by  the  first  train  to  Madrid. 

Manolo.  Because  you  wish  it  ?    Because  you  tell  me  to  ? 

Baldomero.  Not  at  all.  Because  it  is  for  your  best  in- 
terests to  do  so,  because  in  that  way  you  will  avoid  unpleas- 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  175 

antness.  You  know,  my  dear  Manolo,  I  have  always  had 
your  welfare  at  heart. 

Manolo.  Now  you  are  sympathizing  with  me. 

Baldomero.  You  are  so  young,  you  have  so  few  friends, 
that,  naturally  I  sympathize  with  you. 

Manolo.  I  see.  I  think  I  divine  the  motive  of  your  solici- 
tude without  further  explanation.  I  cannot  deny  that  I  have 
paid  some  attention  to  your  daughter.  Whether  or  not  she 
has  responded  suflficiently  to  justify  you  in  rising  up  in  your 
pride  as  a  potentate,  or  in  your  affection  as  a  father,  I  am  not 
at  present  in  a  position  to  determine;  but  however  great  my 
presumption  may  have  been  in  laying  eyes  upon  that  young 
lady,  inasmuch  as  I  am  not  your  servant,  nor  your  debtor 
in  any  particular,  I  am  unable  to  see  in  just  what  way  you 
purpose  to  enforce  this  decree  of  banishment,  however  great 
a  personage  you  may  be  in  Moraleda,  without  any  other 
authority  than  your  own  say-so. 

Baldomero.  To  a  man  of  my  years,  my  son,  boasting 
sounds  idle  and  vain.  Had  I  wished,  there  are  a  thousand 
ways  in  which  I  might  have  caused  your  departure,  without 
your  so  much  as  suspecting  one  of  them;  but  I  could  not 
bring  myself  to  employ  them  in  the  case  of  one  of  whom  I 
was  so  fond.  But  when  I  say  to  you  directly,  face  to  face, 
"I  want  you  to  go  away,"  I  say  it  as  counsel,  I  say  it  as  ad- 
vice.   If  you  prefer,  Don  Santiago  will  say  it  as  a  command. 

Manolo.  Through  your  advice  ? 

Baldomero.  For  the  sake  of  his  own  reputation.  When 
you  say  that  you  owe  me  nothing,  you  forget  that  there  are 
a  thousand  ways  in  which  a  man  may  incur  obligation — 
papers  which  may  pass  from  hand  to  hand,  compromising 
documents  which  may  perhaps  be  brought  to  light. 

Manolo.  Compromising  documents  ?    In  your  possession  ? 

Baldomero.  Don't  be  a  fool.     You  know  Reinosa,  the 


176  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  n 

manager  of  the  Circle?  Well,  his  place  was  running  until 
last  night,  when  some  one  brought  word  to  the  Governor 
that  his  order  to  close  the  house  had  not  been  complied  with. 
He  had  continued  playing  because  he  had  understood  that 
he  was  within  his  rights;  he  had  received  a  letter 

Manolo.  Eh  ?    Have  you  that  letter  ? 

Baldomero.  Don't  you  see?  That  letter  served  as  a 
guarantee,  a  receipt  for  a  certain  sum  of  money,  and  it  has 
come  into  my  possession.  Unless  you  take  steps  to  prevent 
it,  it  will  presently  come  into  that  of  Don  Santiago.  I  know 
this  letter  is  not  signed  by  you,  although  it  is  directed  to 
you,  and  by  a  person  who,  by  addressing  you  in  such  con- 
nection, gives  ample  evidence  of  the  esteem  in  which  you  are 
held  by  her;  I  know  you  will  say  that  it  is  a  great  deal  to  ask 
you  to  leave  Moraleda  in  exchange  for  a  letter,  but  in  order 
to  placate  Reinosa,  whose  casino  is  closed  in  spite  of  the 
guarantee,  I  understand  that  you  have  paid  a  visit  to  a 
certain  club  of  which  I  am  landlord  and  honorary  president, 
and  I  wish  to  inform  you  that  even  suppose  they  do  gamble 
there 

Manolo.  They  do.    There  is  no  supposition  about  that. 

Baldomero.  Even  if  they  do,  let  me  tell  you,  they  know 
what  they  are  doing,  they  are  of  full  age,  and  it  calls  for  no 
interference  from  you.  We  are  not  all  equally  influential, 
young  man,  though  you  may  not  realize  it,  and  whether  pre- 
tending to  the  hand  of  my  daughter,  or  pretending  to  put  me 
before  the  community  in  a  contemptible  light  as  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  gambling-hell 

Manolo.  Pardon  any  pretense  upon  my  part.  So  long  as 
I  supposed  that  family  reasons,  which  I  respect,  prompted 
this  behavior,  I  remained  silent;  but  now  that  it  appears  to 
have  also  its  business  side,  that  puts  another  face  upon  the 
matter.    Do  as  you  see  fit  with  that  letter,  but  let  me  tell 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  177 

you,  if  you  do  not  happen  to  remember  how  a  gentleman 
should  behave,  I  happen  to  remember  very  well  how  to  treat 
persons  who  do  not.    Not  another  word ! . . . .     Josefina ! 

Baldomero.  We  shall  see,  young  man.     We  shall  see. 
Josefina  enters. 

Baldomero.  [To  Josefina]  Lovelier  than  the  day! 

Josefina.  Don  Baldomero!  You  have  come  for  Esper- 
anza?    But  you  did  not  know  she  was  here. 

Baldomero.  Where  better  .^^  No,  I  did  not  come  for  her. 
Perhaps  she  told  you  that  she  had  had  a  little  tiff  with 
mamma.''  A  mere  trifle!  Believe  me,  if  you  are  thinking 
of  having  children,  a  dozen  or  none. 

Josefina.  I  agree  with  you  perfectly.  Where  is  my  hus- 
band .? 

Baldomero.  He  assures  me  that  everything  has  been  pro- 
vided for,  thanks,  no  doubt,  to  you.  You  are  his  good  an- 
gel.    A  man  is  to  be  envied  who  has  an  intelligent  wife. 

Josefina.  I  suppose  your  wife  is  coming  to  see  the  fire- 
works.'* There  will  be  music  and  dancing  for  the  young 
people. 

Baldomero.  She  would  not  miss  them  for  the  world.  I 
shall  bring  her  myself — before  the  crowd  is  too  great. 

Josefina.  Adiós  till  then.  Esperanza  will  be  so  delighted 
to  see  her  mamma. 

Baldomero.  She  is  always  delighted  when  she  is  with 
you,  whom  she  loves  so  dearly.  [To  Manolo]  Adiós  till 
then,  my  son. 

Manolo.  [Acridly]  Adios. 
Don  Baldomero  goes  out. 

JosEiTNA.  Your  future  father-in-law. 

Manolo.  Why  put  it  in  the  future? 

Josefina.  The  girl  is  madly  in  love  with  you;  make  no 


178  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

mistake  about  that.  She  told  me  so  herself;  she  is  only 
waiting  for  her  parents 

Manolo.  To  consent? 

Josefina.  No,  to  refuse.    Don't  you  see  ? 

Manolo.  May  that  girl  avenge  upon  her  father  the  wrongs 
of  Moraleda !  But  they  will  never  refuse;  they  are  too  clever 
for  that.  He  has  devised  other  means.  Don  Baldomcro  is 
going  to  send  me  away. 

Josefina.  You? 

Manolo.  Yes,  he  has  me  in  his  power.  Don  Baldomcro 
understands.  If  it  were  only  a  question  of  myself,  if  I  were 
the  only  one,  but  when  it  concerns  another,  the  dearest,  the 
most  respected. . . .    You  can  guess. 

Josefina.  My  husband  ? 

Manolo.  I  said  the  dearest — if  I  said  respected,  it  was 
only  because  I  respect  that  which  is  exacting  of  respect. 

Josefina.  Are  you  speaking  of  me  ?  Has  Don  Baldomcro 
been  speaking  to  you  of  me?  You  don't  mean  to  say  that 
he  is  going  to  oblige  you  to  renounce  your  marriage  with 
Esperanza,  to  leave  Moraleda  upon  my  account? 

Manolo.  As  far  as  the  marriage  is  concerned,  I  could  re- 
nounce that  well  enough.  It  was  you  who  advised  me  to 
make  up  to  Esperanza. 

Josefina.  She  asked  me  to.  It  would  have  been  a  bril- 
liant match  for  you,  and  she  would  have  lost  nothing  by  it. 
What  a  difference  between  you  and  these  country  fellows 
who  don't  know  enough  to  move  out  of  the  club !  They 
never  had  a  serious  thought  in  their  lives,  but  they  have  all 
the  vices  of  Madrid — yes,  they  have.  Besides,  I  had  set  my 
heart  on  it.  Our  friendship — well,  the  long  and  the  short  of 
it  is  that  our  friendship  is  a  friendship  between  a  man  and 
a  woman,  and  such  friendships  are  always  dangerous. 


ACT  II  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  179 

Manolo.  But  delicious !  Love  without  responsibility;  on 
the  contrary,  with  a  certain  immunity 

Josefina.  Immunity .f*     What  are  you  talking  about? 

Manolo.  Why  not  ? 

Josefina.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself.  If  you 
expect  any  immunity  from  me  you  are  no  friend  of  mine. 

Manolo.  Expect .f'  No!  Far  from  it!  But  when  you 
first  confided  in  my  loyalty,  when,  with  tears  in  your  eyes 
you  said  to  me  :  "I  am  alone,  all  alone  in  the  world.  I  have 
nobody  but  my  husband,  and  there  are  so  many  things  you 
cannot  confide  to  a  husband,  however  much  you  may  respect 
him — for  instance,  what  you  think  of  him — it  would  be  sure 
to  make  him  angry ! " 

Josefina.  Did  I  say  that  ? 

Manolo.  In  substance;  I  may  have  forgotten  the  words. 
Then  I  clasped  your  hand  and  pressed  it  tenderly,  while  you 
said  to  me:  "Be  my  friend,  my  true  friend !"  And  from  that 
moment  the  faith,  the  trust  which  you  placed  in  me,  aU  those 
little  confidences  which  we  shared  together,  which  were  yours 
and  mine — ours,  Josefina — trifles  that  to  another  who  loved 
you  less  might  have  proved  tiresome,  a  bore,  but  which  only 
served  to  increase  my  affection  and  captivate  my  heart. . . . 
Ah!  How  happy,  how  contented  we  were  then,  Josefina! 
How  noble  I  thought  myself !  How  worthy  your  regard ! 
Believe  me,  I  would  not  have  exchanged  this  sweet  friend- 
ship of  ours  for  all  the  loves  of  the  united  world ! 

Josefina.  You  are  so  upright !    So  noble ! 

[Taking  one  of  his  hands. 

Manolo.  [Taking  her  other  hand]  Never  doubt  me! 
Never !    I  would  give  up  everything  for  you. 

Josefina.  No,  I  could  not  accept  such  a  sacrifice.  What 
did  Don  Baldomcro  say  ? 

Manolo.  Josefina!     Unless   I   leave   immediately,   Don 


180  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

Baldomcro  will  drive  us  all  out  in  disgrace.  He  is  deter- 
mined. I  irritate,  I  infuriate  him. — I  don't  know  whether  as 
suitor  to  his  daughter  or  as  secretary  to  the  Governor;  but 
it  is  all  the  same. 

Josefina.  But  have  you  anything  to  do  in  Madrid .? 

Manolo.  Nothing.  If  I  go,  I  abandon  everything.  I 
don't  know  what  will  become  of  me.  I  have  struggled  so 
long,  so  hard — ^yes,  I  am  sure  of  it,  these  last  days  a  pain 
has  come  over  my  heart. ...  I  do  not  feel  well;  yes,  it  is 
in  my  heart.  .  .  . 

Josefina.  Don't  say  that !  It  cannot  be  anything.  Do 
you  know,  sometimes  I  feel  as  if  I  had  an  affection  there  my- 
self.?  But  you  mustn't  go !  I  won't  let  you  go !  I  will  ex- 
plain to  Santiago 

Manolo.  Don  Santiago  .f*  Do  you  know  that  Don  Bal- 
domcro has  a  letter  of  yours  in  his  pocket? 

Josefina.  A  letter  of  mine  ?    What  letter  ? 

Manolo.  A  letter  which  you  directed  to  me. 

Josefina.  But  there  never  was  anything  in  any  letter 
which  I  directed  to  you. 

Manolo.  That  depend^  upon  what  you  call  anything. 
Don't  you  remember.?  You  had  to  pay  some  bills  in  Madrid 
which  your  husband  knew  nothing  about,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  obtain  money  at  once.  There  was  only  one  way  to 
get  it.  Reinosa  demanded  a  guarantee.  Though  Don  San- 
tiago doesn't  count,  there  was  no  reason  why  anybody  should 
trust  me;  so  we  agreed  that  you  should  write  me  a  letter,  and 
that  letter 

Josefina.  You  didn't  let  that  letter  get  out  of  your  pos- 
session ? 

Manolo.  You  insult  me.  Do  you  suppose  that  it  was  I 
who  wanted  the  guarantee.'* 

Josefina.  But  why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  you  were  go- 
ing to  give  up  that  letter? 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  181 

Manolo.  Why  did  you  tell  me  that  if  you  didn't  have  that 
money  in  Madrid  within  twenty-four  hours,  your  husband 
would  apply  for  a  separation  ?  So  that  I  shouldn't  pay  any 
attention  to  you,  I  suppose. 

Josefina.  Did  I  tell  you  that  ?  But  don't  you  see  ?  Now 
we  are  in  the  hands  of  these  people. 

Manolo.  You  didn't  suppose  that  those  rascals  were  go- 
ing to  get  you  out  of  debt  out  of  gallantry  ? 

Josefina.  You  ought  to  have  told  me  this  before.  Now 
what  are  we  to  do  ?    If  my  husband  sees  that  letter 

Manolo.  He  won't  see  it.    I  am  going  away. 

Josefina.  There  will  be  more  trouble!  Believe  me,  this 
is  only  the  beginning.  A  woman  is  never  safe  until  she  is 
dead.  No  wonder  we  are  deceived  so  easily  when  you  men 
who  know  the  world  and  what  it  is 

Manolo.  We  do,  and  that  is  the  reason  I  intend  to  get 
you  that  letter  before  I  go,  cost  what  it  may.  I  do  not  pur- 
pose to  have  you  suffer  upon  my  account. 

Josefina.  And  I  do  not  purpose  to  have  you  lose  your 
position  upon  mine.  And  all  because  my  husband  lacks 
character !  Suppose  he  should  hear  of  it.?*  He  would  be  con- 
vinced that  I  had  deceived  him;  he  would  insist  upon  it. 
And  I  never  did;  I  never  deceived  anybody — least  of  all  my 
husband.  What  difference  does  it  make  whether  they  play 
for  money  or  don't  play  for  money  ?  Let  them  play  if  they 
want  to.  What  harm  is  there  in  it  ?  But  no !  We  must 
uphold  morality,  we  must  act  with  decorum.  As  if  on  the 
miserable  salary  a  governor  gets  one  could  act  with4ecorum ! 
But  that  is  the  way  you  men  are;  you  are  all  the  same.  You 
might  have  thought  of  something — but  no !  You  have  only 
one  idea — which  would  have  occurred  to  anybody:  "/  will 
go  away,  you  will  stay  here,  alone — alone  in  the  jaws  of  these 
wolves  who  are  ravening  to  devour  you,  God  knows  how!" 
And  yet  you  talk  as  if  I  hud  no  heart,  as  if  I  cared  for  nothing 


182  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  actii 

but  myself,  as  if  you  were  of  no  consequence  at  all !  Oh,  if  I 
were  only  a  man  I  would  show  you !  You  would  see  what  stuff 
I  had  in  me ! 

Manolo.  I  know  already,  Josefina.  And  if  you  only 
dared,  if  I  could  only  count  upon  you 

Josefina.  What  do  you  mean  ? 

Manolo.  I  would  accept  the  challenge  and  give  them  bat- 
tle all  along  the  line.  Don  Baldomcro  would  soon  learn 
what  stuff  I  had  in  me.  I  would  raise  the  downtrodden,  I 
would  summon  the  oppressed,  I  would  stir  up  against  him 
all  those  who  hate,  who  despise  him,  and  when  he  attempted 
to  drive  us  out,  the  unanimous  voice  of  the  people  would  be 
on  our  side.  Ah,  if  you  would  only  believe  in  me !  If  you 
only  had  it  in  you  to  despise  these  rapscallions  who  loom  so 
large  in  your  eyes !  H, 

Josefina.  What  could  I  do  ? 

Manolo.  Attack  them  on  their  own  ground.  In  the  first 
place,  tell  Don  Santiago  to  permit  the  performance  of  "06- 
scurantismo,"  tell  him  to  go  to  it,  be  present  yourself. 

Josefina.  I  ?    What  nonsense ! 

Manolo.  Yes,  it  would  seem  like  nonsense  to  your  friends. 
Your  friends !  Were  they  your  friends  when  you  were  strug- 
gling so  hard  in  Madrid,  when  they  had  nothing  to  get  out 
of  you,  and  you  had  everything  to  get  out  of  them  ? 

Josefina.  That  is  true 

Manolo.  Then  look  at  the  other  side.  What  a  triumph 
with  the  people !  If  you  had  only  seen  the  crowd  at  the  box- 
office  !  What  enthusiasm !  What  ecstasy !  And  how  easy 
it  would  be  to  take  advantage  of  it !  But  when  the  order  ar- 
rives suspending  the  performance,  and  they  see  in  it  the  in- 
fluence of  the  reactionary  element— don't  deceive  yourself, 
it  will  precipitate  a  crisis.  It  may  even  necessitate  the  dis- 
missal of  Don  Santiago  under  the  most  unfavorable  circum- 


ACT  II  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  183 

stances,  with  the  ministry  and  with  the  people.  On  the 
other  hand,  suppose  that  the  reactionaries  drive  him  out 
because  he  shows  leanings  toward  liberalism.  Then  the 
great  body  of  the  people  will  be  on  his  side.  They  will  ac- 
claim him  as  the  champion  of  popular  rights,  and  the  gov- 
ernment— the  government  is  in  a  very  critical  situation.  A 
crisis  will  have  to  be  met  by  making  concessions  to  the  liberal 
elements,  and  these  will  have  no  alternative  but  to  support 
Don  Santiago,  to  promote  him  perhaps  to  a  governorship 
of  the  first  class.  That  is  clear;  it  is  politics.  It  is  necessary 
to  look  up,  to  peer  into  the  far  horizons,  to  cultivate  large- 
ness of  view  and  grandeur  of  soul,  and  not  to  fall  into  the 
error  of  believing  that  to  be  most  important  which  lies  di- 
rectly under  our  eyes.    Don't  you  see.^^ 

Josefina.  No,  I  don't.  I  don't  see  anything  at  all.  It 
may  be,  since  you  say  so.    If  there  should  be  a  crisis 

Manolo.  Make  no  mistake.    There  will  be  one. 

Josefina.  What  makes  you  think  so.^^ 

Manolo.  The  country  is  disturbed.  There  are  disorders 
in  the  provinces.  It  will  soon  be  necessary  to  suspend  the 
constitutional  guarantees,  and  for  suppressing  liberties,  you 
know,  there  is  no  government  like  a  liberal  one.  It  inspires 
greater  confidence.  Besides,  it  is  fall.  There  are  two  seasons 
in  the  year  which  are  especially  dangerous  to  any  govern- 
ment— the  summer  when  it  begins  to  grow  warm,  and  when 
the  cold  weather  comes  on  again  in  the  fall,  with  the  conse- 
quent changes  of  clothes.  Thousands  of  families  in  the  op- 
position anxious  to  take  baths  in  the  summer,  and  other 
thousands  uncertain  when  to  change  to  their  heavy  under- 
wear in  the  fall,  together  these  constitute  an  incalculable 
force  which  needs  only  the  slightest  pretext  in  order  to  over- 
throw any  government.  Believe  me,  if  he  is  to  preserve 
himself,  Don  Santiago  must  make  overtures  to  liberalism 


184  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

and  the  first  step  for  him  to  take  is  to  permit  the  perform- 
ance of  ''Obscurantismo,''  in  spite  of  the  opposition  which  it 
has  aroused. 

Josefina.  But  if  I  tell  him  that,  don't  you  see,  he  will 
think  that  I  am  crazy  ?  He  will  be  justified  in  believmg  that 
I  am  out  of  my  head. 

Manolo.  Why? 

Josefina.  Because  not  half  an  hour  ago  I  threatened  to 
go  back  to  Madrid  if  he  consented  to  it. 

Manolo.  But  in  half  an  hour  you  have  seen  a  new  light, 
you  have  come  to  look  at  the  matter  from  another  point  of 
view.  When  you  spoke  before,  it  was  upon  impulse.  No% 
you  advise  him  more  deliberately. 

Josefina.  But  how  am  I  to  tell  him  the  opposite  of  every- 
thing which  I  told  him  before  ? 

Manolo.  You  convinced  him  before  against  his  will. 
That  makes  it  all  the  easier. 

Josefina.  But  you  don't  know  what  I  said !  Besides, 
what  good  will  it  do  ?  People  will  only  repeat  what  the  Mar- 
chioness said  to  Doña  O:  My  husband  permits  the  perform- 
ance because  your  brother  is  manager  of  the  company  and 
you  have  an  interest  in  it.  That  is  the  reason  you  have 
used  your  influence  with  my  husband  and  with  me.  Imagine 
what  they  will  invent ! 

Manolo.  Yes,  they  know  everything.  The  last  person  I 
expected  to  see  here  was  my  brother;  but  he  is  my  brother — 
yes,  he  is !  He  has  been  knocking  about  the  world  as  I  have 
been  knocking  about  life,  both  of  us  fighting  for  a  foothold, 
a  chance  to  live — he  with  his  actors  and  his  comedians,  I 
among  actors  also — and  for  both  of  us  the  real  comedy  has 
been  the  same,  the  earning  of  our  daily  bread;  and  we  have 
written  it  with  our  lives.  I  am  not  sorry  I  met  him.  He 
comes  in  time  to  remind  me  that  all  men  are  my  brothers 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  185 

who  at  one  season  or  another  have  had  to  struggle  and 
fight  for  their  lives  as  we  have  done — all  of  us  who  are  denied 
the  luxury  of  a  conscience  which  conforms  to  our  acts,  the 
disinherited,  the  oppressed.  I  may  wear  this  livery  of  re- 
spectability, of  the  hypocrite,  it  is  true,  but  I  should  be  a 
dastard  and  a  coward  if  I  did  not  stand  by  his  side,  if  I  did 
not  flaunt  this  society  of  Tartuffes,  who  pretend  to  defend 
their  principles  when  they  are  merely  defending  their  pock- 
ets. Liberty,  patriotism,  religion — fine  words  these  for 
barricades  behind  which  to  bolster  up  their  social  position, 
their  salaries,  yes,  or  their  interests  in  dives  and  gambling- 
hells,  like  Don  Baldomcro.  At  least  I  do  not  deceive — I  fight 
in  the  open,  and  I  hold  to  my  own.  You  know  that  already. 
Choose !  Decide  for  yourself — you  are  a  woman  of  courage. 
You,  too,  have  struggled  up,  and  you  ought  to  know  upon 
which  side  are  yours — upon  theirs  or  upon  ours ! 

Josefina.  You  are  right.  I  often  have  thought  so  my- 
self. We  ought  not  to  allow  these  people  to  impose  upon  us. 
We  ought  to  teach  them  a  lesson.  What  I  don't  see  is  how 
I  am  to  convince  my  husband. 

Manolo.  Here  he  comes.     You  can  try. 

Josefina.  He  will  think  I  am  crazy. 
Don  Santiago  enters. 

Santiago.  [Greatly  pleased  with  himself]  Well,  I  hope  you 
will  be  satisfied.  [To  Manolo]  On  the  whole  it  is  for  the 
best.  I  have  sent  a  complete  explanation  to  the  ministry, 
and  an  order  of  prohibition  to  the  management.  Why? 
What  is  the  matter.^  What  faces!  Have  I  made  another 
mistake  ?    Josefina !    Speak ! 

Josefina.  Santiago,  a  wife  ought  never  to  meddle  in  her 
husband's  affairs.     She  is  too  impressionable;  the  circle  of 

her  ideas  is  too  limited,  too  confined [Aside  to  Manolo] 

How  is  that? 


186  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

Manoix).  Good! 

Josefina.  We  attach  too  much  importance  to  trifles,  we 
forget  to  look  up,  to  peer  into  the  far  horizons 

Manolo.  Sublime! 

Santiago.  What  is  the  meaning  of  all  this  ? 

Josefina.  The  meaning  of  it  is,  Santiago,  that  a  sensible 
man  never  pays  any  attention  to  what  he  is  told  by  his  wife. 

Santiago.  And  has  that  just  occurred  to  you  in  the  last 
quarter  of  an  hour.?    [To  Manolo]  What  do  you  say.?^ 

Manolo.  Josefina  has  been  imposed  upon  by  designing 
persons.  Without  realizing  it,  she  has  been  influ^ced  to 
her  disadvantage. 

Santiago.  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  it  was  a  mis- 
take? [To  Josefina]  I  said  so  from  the  beginning;  and  you, 
you  tell  me  now 

Josefina.  That  you  have  committed  a  blunder,  that  you 
have  fallen  into  a  trap,  that  you  have  flown  in  the  face  of 
public  opinion,  and  without  a  moment's  loss  of  time  you 
ought  to  save  the  remnants  of  your  reputation  by  removing 
at  once  this  arbitrary,  this  ridiculous  prohibition. 

JVIanolo.  More  arbitrary  than  ridiculous,  . . . 

Santiago.  Oh,  oh,  oh !  This  is  too  much !  [To  Manolo] 
What  am  I  to  do  ?  I  knew  it !  I  knew  it !  Advise  me.  How 
will  it  be  possible  for  me  to  change  my  order  a  second  time  ? 
My  authority  will  be  gone.  No,  no !  This  time  I  will  stand 
by  my  decree  though  the  heavens  fall.  Wouldn't  it  be  con- 
temptible if  now — tell  me  impartially 

Manolo.  Yes. ...    It  would 

Josefina.  [To  Manolo]  Back  me  up.  [Aloud]  Manolo 
will  tell  you,  if  he  is  sincere,  what  he  has  told  me:  that  you 
are  exposing  yourself  to  a  great  danger.  There  will  be  riots. 
Your  obstinacy  will  cost  you  dear. 


ACT  II  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  187 

Santiago.  My  obstinacy?  Great  God!  What  do  they 
call  obstinacy  ? 

All  begin  to  speak  at  the  same  time. 

Josefina.  Tell  him  what  you  told  me 

Manolo.  I  said 

Santiago.  No,  no !    I  couldn't  think  of  it.    Impossible ! 

Josefina.  You  will  be  sorry  when  it  is  too  late 

Manolo.  Don't  get  excited !    Please !    Please ! 

Santiago.  Not  though  the  heavens  fall!  Not  though  a 
thunderbolt  consume  Moraleda ! 

Manolo.  Some  one  is  coming. 

Josefina.  The  guests !    Not  another  word ! 

[Moving  forward  to  receive  them. 

Santiago.  I  should  like  to  know  what  Richelieu  or  Philip 
II  or  any  other  great  statesman  would  have  amounted  to 
with  such  a  wife. 

Don  Basilio,  Jimena,  and  Belisa  enter.    All  exchange 
bows  and  salutations. 

Josefina.  My  dears,  I  am  delighted!  The  first  fruits  of 
the  evening .... 

Basilio.  Señor  Don  Santiago ! 

Belisa.  The  crowd  is  so  gi*eat  that  positively  it  would  have 
been  impossible  for  us  to  have  passed  if  we  had  been  later. 

Jimena.  A  mare  magnum;  it  was  like  the  sea. 

Belisa.  We  were  in  danger  of  being  squeezed  to  death. 

Jimena.  Although  we  had  determined  to  take  the  risk. 

Josefina.  What  risk  ? 

Jimena.  There  was  a  riot  at  the  theatre. 

Santiago.  A  riot  ? 

Basilio.  Hardly  a  riot.  Three  or  four  persons  who  pro- 
tested. .  .  . 

Josefina.  [A&ide  to  Santiago]  You  see  what  you  have 
done. 


188  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

Santiago.  I  knew  it,  I  knew  it.  It  is  getting  dark.  I'll 
turn  on  the  lights.     What !     There  is  no  current. 

Josefina.  Who  ever  saw  such  wretched  service.?' 

Jemena.  It  is  the  same  at  our  house. 

Manolo.  Another  monopoly  of  Don  Baldomero's.  Every- 
thing here  belongs  to  Don  Baldomcro. 

Santiago.  With  all  the  illuminations  of  the  fiesta,  of 
course  there  isn't  enough  power. 

Basilio.  Don't  talk  to  me  about  these  modern  improve- 
ments.   As  far  as  I  can  see,  they  are  nothing  but  show. 

Josefina.  [Who  has  called  a  servant]  Bring  candelabra  with 
candles. 

Servant.  [Handing  Manolo  a  card]  A  gentleman  to  see 
you — and  His  Excellency.  It  is  important;  about  the  public 
order,  sir. 

Manolo.  The  manager  of  the  theatre. 

Josefina.  [Aside  to  Manolo]  Your  brother.? 

Manolo.  [Idem]  Hush!  [To  Don  Santiago]  Will  you 
see  him  ? 

Santiago.  See  him  yourself,  if  you  want  to.  I.  will  see 
nobody.    Get  out  of  it  if  you  can.    I  resign  the  command. 

Josefina.  [Aside  to  M\nolo]  What  are  you  going  to  do  ? 

Manolo.  [Idem]  Fix  Don  Baldomcro!  [Aloud]  Have  I 
your  consent  ? 

Santiago.  You  have  my  consent.    Do  as  you  see  fit — as 
both  of  you  see  fit.    In  any  case  I  send  in  my  resignation. 
Manolo  goes  out. 
Basilio.  With  so  many  responsibilities  resting  upon  your 
shoulders,  it  is  diflficult  to  understand  how  you  can  take  so 
much  pleasure  in  holding  office. 
Santiago.  Pleasure  ?     None  whatever,  I  assure  you. 
Belisa.  [From  the  balcony]  Do  you  see  who  is  there? 
Jimena.  Did  you  ever.?    Look,  papa!    Look! 


ACT  II  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  189 

Josefina.  What  is  the  matter? 

Belisa.  One  can  no  longer  be  sure  of  the  clothes  on  one's 
back. 

Basilio.  Who  is  it  ?  These  girls  keep  me  always  with  my 
heart  in  my  throat. 

JiMENA.  It's  Tomasa,  the  maid.  She  asked  permission  to 
go  and  see  the  fireworks  from  her  aunt's,  and  there  she  is 
walking  up  and  down  with  a  man  who  must  be  her  fiance  at 
least. 

Santiago.  Possibly. 

JiMENA.  Now  if  anything  happens  to  her,  they  will  say 
that  we  weren't  looking  out. 

Belisa.  Or  that  we  set  her  the  example. 

Josefina.  Heavens !    Who  would  say  that  ? 

JiMENA.  [To  Don  Basilio]  You  had  better  run  down  and 
send  her  home. 

Belisa.  The  next  thing  you  know  she  will  be  introducing 
a  man  into  the  house. 

Santiago.  [Aside  to  Josefina]  What  more  could  they 
wish? 

The  Marchioness  op  Torrelodones  and  Esperanza 
enter. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  [To  Josefina]  We  were 
waiting  for  you. 

Josefina.  I  have  just  been  in  conference.  Important 
business — politics . 

Esperanza.  Hello,  Jimena !    Hello,  Belisa ! 

Belisa.  How  attractive  you  look  this  evening!  Is  that 
your  new  gown  from  Madrid? 

Esperanza.  No,  it's  from  Paris. — I  knew  it  must  be  a 
fright. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Where  is  papa  ?    I  have 


190  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

scarcely  seen  him  since  we  arrived  in  Moraleda.    He  is  be- 
coming quite  shameless. 

JiMENA.  Heavens !  What  a  thing  to  say !  And  she  comes 
from  Madrid. 

Belisa.  I  don't  like  the  fit  of  her  dress. 

JiMENA.  No.    Nor  the  way  she  does  her  hair. 

Belisa.  Have  you  noticed  her  walk  ?  Yet  they  laugh  at 
the  provinces. 

Josefina.  [Aside  to  the  Marchioness]  Poetry  and  Rhet- 
oric are  giving  us  a  course. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  They  had  better  look 
out.  There's  a  tang  of  the  street  to  every  Madrileña,  even 
though  she  is  a  marchioness — a  touch  of  the  low  quarters 
and  the  Lavapiés. 

Josefina.  I  can  believe  it. 
Doña  O  and  Polito  enter. 

Doña  O.  Everybody  is  here  this  evening. 

Esperanza.  Why,  mamma ! 

Polito.  Good  evening,  ladies. 

Josefina.  So  you  got  up  your  courage,  did  you  ? 

Doña  O.  After  the  explanations  of  your  husband.  Ah ! 
Don  Santiago. . . . 

Santiago.  Oh !    Doña  O 

Esperanza.  And  papa  ? 

Doña  O.  He  was  coming  with  me,  but  we  happened  on 
Polito,  so  I  have  him  instead.  Your  father  stopped  off  at  the 
club.  He  was  anxious  to  inquire. . . .  There  were  rumors 
afloat. ... 

Basilio.  Has  there  been  any  trouble.? 

Doña  O.  Oh,  the  rabble — people  who  have  nothing  better 
to  do,  making  a  demonstration  in  front  of  the  theatre. 

Belisa.  Name  of  Joseph !  Do  you  think  we  shall  be  safe, 
Don  Santiago? 


ACT  II  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  191 

Santiago.  Perfectly  safe.    You  have  nothing  to  fear. 

PoLiTO.  [Aside]  Are  you  angry  with  me,  Esperancita? 

Esperanza.  I  am  angry  with  everybody ! 

PoLiTO.  It  doesn't  seem  possible — when  everybody  loves 
you. 

Esperanza.  I  don't  care  to  be  loved  by  everybody. 

PoLiTO.  How  amiable  you  are  this  evening ! 

Esperanza.  You  ought  to  know. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Where  is  papa  ? 

PoLiTO.  We  left  him  at  the  café  with  Campos  and  Re- 
guera.   They  will  drop  in  later  to  see  the  fireworks. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Really  ?    How  jolly ! 

Doña  O.  [To  Josefina]  Those  buU-fighters  in  the  Pal- 
ace ?    Who  ever  heard  of  such  effrontery  ? 

The  Marchioness  of  Villaquejido  and  Teresa  enter^ 
accompanied  by  Don  Teodoro  and  Don  Guillermo. 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  See  whom  we  are  bring- 
ing with  us! 

Teresa.  Yes,  they  are  coming  by  force.  They  planned  to 
stay  below  and  watch  the  fireworks  from  the  plaza. 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  We  declined  to  trust 
them,  however,  in  the  crowd. 

Guillermo.  There  is  a  crowd 

Santiago.  The  fact  is,  although  the  plaza  is  large,  the 
people  will  press  over  to  one  side 

Teodoro.  There  is  a  natural  tendency  to  pressure  in  a 
crowd. 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  You  ought  to  know;  you 
are  the  talk  of  Moraleda.  My  last  cook  left  upon  your  ac- 
count. 

Guillermo.  Ha,  ha!    Sorcery. 

Belisa.  At  least  they  show  taste;  she  was  a  good  one. 

JiMENA.  Parsley  and  onions  are  their  favorite  perfumes. 


192  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  actii 

Teodoro.  Even  among  vegetables,  we  have  learaed  to 
discriminate. 

Belisa.  How  polite ! 

JiMENA.  Don't  bother  with  them.  They  are  confirmed 
bachelors,  both. 

Teresa.  I  simply  adore  fireworks. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  You  won't  get  much  of 
that  sort  of  thing  in  the  convent. 

Teresa.  So  I  am  making  the  most  of  my  opportunities 

now.    Look  at  those  boys ! Did  you  ever  ? 

The  Marquis  of  Torrelodones,  Campos  and  Re- 
guera enter. 

Marquis.  [Bowing]  Ladies  and  gentlemen ! 
All  exchange  greetings. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  [To  Campos]  Step  out 
for  a  moment  upon  the  balcony,  Campos.  I  have  a  favor  to 
ask  of  you. 

Campos.  At  your  service,  señorita. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  I  want  to  take  your 
picture.    So — that  is  perfect. 

Campos.  Preparing  to  thrust,  eh.?    How  is^this? 

Marchioness  op  Torrelodones.  Divine!  There!  [She 
takes  the  picture]  Bring  up  a  chair. 

Doña  O.  [To  Josefina]  She  takes  him  out  on  the  bal- 
cony so  that  people  can  see  her  with  him.  She  talks  of  noth- 
ing else. 

Josefina.  I  know  it.  And  people  are  beginning  to  grow 
nervous. 

Marquis.  Yes,  sir,  there  was  a  great  commotion  all  about 
the  theatre.  Some  shouted  "Prohibition,"  others  "No  pro- 
hibition !"    There  were  boos  and  viva^ — cries  of  "Death !" 

Santiago.  Why  wasn't  I  informed  of  this  before?    Call 


ACT  II  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  193 

the  police.     [Rings]  Public  order  must  be  preserved  at  any 
cost. 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  Is  anything  wrong? 
What  is  the  matter.? 

Santiago.  No,  nothing  is  the  matter.  Are  there  no  ser- 
vants in  the  house  ?  A  good  government !  A  pretty  govern- 
ment! 

Don  Baldomero  enters. 

All.  [As  he  appears]  What  is  the  matter  ?  What  has  hap- 
pened ? 

Esperanza.  Papa! 

Baldomero.  A  barbarity !  An  atrocity !  Stand  back,  for 
God's  sake !    They  have  insulted  me. 

All.  You! 

Baldomero.  A  riot !  A  mob !  A  demonstration  in  front 
of  the  theatre,  and  they  are  marching  here  singing  the 
"Hymn  of  Riego" !  . 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  The  "Hymn  of  Riego'*? 
Goodness !  When  we  heard  it  in  my  day,  we  always  ran  to 
hide  the  silver. 

Teodoro.  Since  then  it  has  marched  off  to  other  tunes,  so 
now  she  can  spare  herself  the  trouble. 

Manolo  enters,  followed  by  the  Clerk. 

Manolo.  Don  Santiago !  Quick !  They  are  marching  on 
the  Palace.    You  can  hear  them:  "Long  live  liberty!"  and 

"Death !    Death" [To  Don  Baldomero]  Principally  to 

you. 

Santiago.  Quick !  My  stick !  My  hat !  No,  not  my  new 
one [The  wornen  scream.    Bemsa  faints]  Stand  back ! 

Baldomero.  And  all  this  because  you  lack  character ! 

Santiago.  If  you  had  only  let  me  do  my  duty 

Doña  O.  Now  you  see  what  it  means  to  pander  to  the 
people. 


194  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  ii 

Josefina.  It  is  my  husband's  fault — yes,  for  having  lis- 
tened to  you !  Didn't  you  tell  us  that  everybody  was  on  your 
side  ? 

Shouts  y  cries  of  ''Viva!'*  and  **  Death!'' 

All.  Here  they  come!     Shut  the  windows!     Don't  be 
afraid.    Look  out  for  stones !    Turn  down  the  lights ! 
Great  confusion.     The  lights  are  turned  down. 

Santla-Go.  Where  am  I  ?    Let  me  go ! 

Josefina.  Don't  go,  Santiago !    Don't  go ! 

Santiago.  Duty  before  everything!  [Tremendous  ex- 
'plosion  in  the  plaza.  A  red  glow  illuminates  the  windows  at  the 
rear.    Shouts  and  cries]  An  explosion !    Fire ! 

Manolo.  The  fireworks  have  gone  off ! 

Doña  O.  Alas  for  Moraleda ! 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  It  is  the  end  of  the  world ! 

Josefina.  And  it  is  all  your  fault ! 

Curtain 


THE    THIRD    ACT 

Two  boxes  in  the  hull-ring  at  Moraleda.  The  Governor's  box 
is  upon  the  right,  and  is  somewhat  larger  than  the  other, 
which  is  upon  the  spectator's  left. 

An  usher  is  distributing  programmes  printed  upon  silk  through 
the  vestibules  of  the  boxes.  Don  Trino  and  Damián  un- 
pack the  lunch  upon  a  table  in  the  vestibule  of  the  Gov- 
ernor's box. 

Trino.  Set  the  basket  on  the  floor,  the  glasses  go  here. 
Have  we  everything  ? 

Damián.  Yes.  I  shall  be  back  during  the  intermission  to 
serve  lunch — ^after  the  third  bull. 

Trino.  [Going  up  to  the  box]  How  is  the  plaza  ?  [Applause. 
Don  Trino  draws  back  hurriedly]  Ah!  They  took  me  for 
the  Governor  and  applauded  me.    They  are  ready  to  begin. 

Damián.  It's  half  an  hour  yet.     The  people  in  the  sun 
come  early,  as  the  seats  are  not  reserved.    There's  less  en- 
thusiasm than  there  was  last  year.    Have  a  drop  ? 
'   Trino.  Demonio  I 

Damián.  A  bottle  more  or  less.  What  difference  does  it 
make? 

Trino.  They'll  see  us  from  the  boxes. 

Damián.  There's  nobody  in  the  boxes — the  country  peo- 
ple are  still  coming  in.  Too  much  excitement  yesterday.  It 
detracts  from  the  interest. 

Trino.  Good  wine !    Very  good  wine 

Damián.  Everybody  has  timiditis.  Did  you  notice  the 
precautions  in  the  plaza? 

195 


196  THE   GOVERNOR'S   WIFE  act  m 

Trino.  Well,  what  more  do  they  wish?  The  most  exact- 
ing should  be  satisfied.  Liberty  has  triumphed.  We  have 
seen  the  play,  and  it  turns  out  to  be  a  good  one.  Yes,  sir ! 
Those  who  didn't  like  it,  didn't  like  it,  but  the  public  has 
been  heard  from. 

Damián.  Yes,  but  how  ?  On  their  way  home  they  broke 
two  windows  in  the  café.  At  Don  Baldomero's  there  isn't  so 
much  as  a  whole  pane  of  glass. 

Trino.  He  hasn't  given  up,  though.  Did  you  see  the  Abe- 
jorro ? 

Damián.  And  the  Echo!  This  story  about  the  secretary 
and  the  Governor's  wife —  Nothing  else  was  talked  of  in 
the  café  this  morning.    Have  another  glass  ?     [Offering  wine. 

Trino.  No,  thank  you.  It  would  never  do  to  have  it  go 
to  my  head.  This  story — you  can  take  it  from  me — it's  a 
lie  out  of  the  whole  cloth,  a  calumny.  I  come  into  contact 
daily  with  Doña  Josefina  and  Don  Manuel,  yes,  sir,  and  with 
the  Governor  himself,  and  I  consider  them  all  in  their  way 
decent  people,  very  decent  people — without  meaning  any- 
thing by  it — among  the  most  decent  we  have  had  in  the 
Palace  during  the  twenty  years  I  have  been  in  it,  and  we 
have  had  all  sorts  of  people,  including  decent  people.  But 
politics  have  no  heart.  It  is  every  one  for  himself  and  the 
devil  for  all  of  them.  Poor  Doña  Josefina !  She  was  cry- 
ing all  morning  like  a  Magdalen. 

Damián.  No  !    She  was  ? 

Trino.  She  hides  nothing  from  me.  While  she  was  comb- 
ing her  hair,  she  let  fall  such  a  tear ! 

Damián.  But  there  are  people  who  have  seen  the  letters. 
You  can  read  them  in  the  papers. 

Trino.  You  can,  can  you?  How  do  you  know  they  are 
not  forgeries  ?     Yes,  sir ! 

Damián.  [Much  impressed]  Ah !    Very  likely. 


ACTiii  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  197 

Trino.  Take  that  French  case  for  example:  the  scandal 
nearly  disrupted  the  army;  even  generals  were  mixed  up  in 
it.  All  politics,  of  course.  Talk  about  handwriting — I 
could  fix  up  for  you  myself  pretty  much  what  you  please. 
If  I  had  had  any  leaning  toward  evil,  as  thank  God  I  have 
had  toward  good,  and  I  have  never  had  reason  to  regret  it 
—a  quiet  conscience  is  better  than  great  riches — well,  the 
fact  is  I  could  fix  up  for  you  pretty  much  what  I  pleased. 
But  I  have  never  taken  advantage  of  this  ability,  no,  sir, 
unless  sometimes  in  jest.  Now  and  then  a  man  must  have 
his  jest.  But  there  are  people  who  think  otherwise,  who  will 
go  to  any  length  in  order  to  get  money.  Yes,  sir !  But  Doña 
Josefina.'*  Nonsense!  She  is  innocent.  If  you  could  see 
her  as  I  do  every  morning,  sitting  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  fixing 
the  collars  and  cuffs  on  the  Governor's  shirt! 

Damián.  I  wouldn't  have  believed  it  possible. 

Trino.  No,  sir,  I  tell  you  people  are  malicious,  evil- 
minded.    For  instance,  I  brought  up  a  niece  of  my  wife's  out 

of  charity  from  a  very  tender  age,  and  everybody  said 

Believe  me,  there  is  more  in  these  things  than  appears  upon 
the  surface.  Yes,  sir !  I  have  had  experience.  Don  Baldo- 
mero's  daughter  is  in  love  with  Don  Manolo;  her  father  is 
opposed  to  the  match;  then  Josefina  intervenes  with  Doña 
O,  and  she  is  offended  by  it;  so  to  disillusion  the  girl,  they 
invent  the  first  slander  that  comes  into  their  heads. 
Noise  in  the  plaza. 

Damián.  Caramba  I    They  are  growing  impatient. 

Trino.  Yes,  the  sun  is  hot  and  they  bring  their  wine-skins. 
They  are  warming  up.  [Looking  into  the  box]  Ah !  Now  they 
hiss  me. 

Damián.  If  it  begins  like  this 

Trino.  What  will  the  end  be  ? 
Josefina  and  Manolo  enier. 


198  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  m 

Josefina.  What  is  the  matter?  What  are  they  hooting 
at? 

Trino.  Nothmg,  señora,  the  heat,  the  wine 

Josefina.  [Seating  herself  at  the  table  vnthovt  entering  the 
hox]  Ay!    I  never  was  so  nervous.    Everything  upsets  me. 

Trino.  And  His  Excellency  the  Governor  ?  Did  he  come 
with  you  ? 

Manolo.  No,  he  is  in  conference  with  the  manager  and 
the  chief  of  the  Guardia  civil. 

Josefina.  We  thought  it  best  to  be  early  so  as  to  avoid 
the  crowd.    Have  we  long  to  wait  ? 

Manolo.  A  few  minutes. 

Trino.  We  were  setting  out  the  refreshments. 

Damián.  Yes,  the  lunch.    I  shall  be  back  during  the  in- 
termission.   With  your  permission,  señora. . . . 
Goes  out. 

Trino.  If  there  is  nothing  for  me  to  do,  I  will  retire  also. 

Josefina.  Aren't  you  going  to  stay  to  see  the  fight  ? 

Trino.  <Sí,  señora,  I  have  seats  with  my  family. 

Josefina.  Gracious !  Have  you  a  family,  Don  Trino  ?  I 
didn't  know  you  were  married. 

Trino.  I  am  a  widower,  si,  señora.  I  have  a  niece  and 
three  small  children.    At  your  service,  señora. 

Josefina.  Why  does  he  say  at  my  service  ?  A  widower ! 
I  hope  there  is  not  going  to  be  any  trouble. 

Trino.  I  hope  not,  señora.  It  is  only  the  people  amusing 
themselves.  If  the  toreros  are  good  and  the  bulls  fierce,  all 
will  be  well;  but  if  the  bulls  are  bad,  as  they  were  last  year — 
Good  Lord !  They  will  burn  the  plaza !  At  least  that  is  the 
custom. 

Manolo.  It  is  ? 

Josefina.  Barbarous! 

Trino.    Worse  than  barbarous;  it  is  terrible!    The  spec- 


ACT  III    ^       THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  199 

tacle  itself  is  a  savage  one,  si,  señora;  but,  believe  me,  the 
people,  when  they  are  aroused,  are  a  thousand  times  more 
savage  than  the  spectacle.     Si,  señora. 

Josefina.  I  don't  think  I  shall  enjoy  it.  I  like  the  ani- 
mation, the  parade  of  the  fighters,  the  entrance  of  the  bull, 
but  nothing  else.  The  truth  is,  this  year  I  didn't  want  to 
come. . . . 

Trino.  No  wonder.  The  circumstances — that  is,  the  con- 
ditions     Ah!     What  a  world  we  live  in!     Si,  señora/ 

If  you  wish  nothing  more  ? 

Josefina.  No,  no,  nothing,  Don  Trino. 
Don  Trino  goes  ovt. 

Manolo.  [Looking  into  the  plaza]  There  is  a  big  crowd. 

Josefina.  There  is  ^  I  am  sorry  to  hear  it.  I  wish  there 
wasn't  anybody  at  all.    Give  me  a  glass  of  water. 

Manolo.  Have  a  sandwich.?  A  cake.?*  Didn't  you  eat 
anything  this  morning  ?    You  look  pale. 

Josefina.  No,  I  couldn't  eat.    I  am  so  restless,  so  nervous. 

Manolo.  Why.^^  It  is  quite  unnecessary.  I  tell  you  we 
have  won. 

Josefina.  Yes,  it  was  all  very  well  last  night  while  the 
performance  was  going  on — applause  and  cheers  at  the  thea- 
tre; but  this  afternoon,  after  people  have  seen  the  papers, 
after  they  have  had  a  chance  to  talk!  On  the  way  here 
everybody  was  reading  the  Abejorro,  I  could  see  them  from 
the  carriage. 

Manolo.  Yes,  but  everybody  was  indignant,  as  I  thought. 
They  say  it  is  a  calumny  invented  by  Don  Baldomcro  to  re- 
venge himself  for  the  insults  of  last  night. 

Josefina.  That  may  be.  But  didn't  you  hear?  Es- 
peranza made  a  scene  this  morning — I  had  it  from  the  ser- 
vants. She  says  she  is  going  to  marry  you,  and  she  is  going 
to  marry  you  immediately. 


200  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE       ^    act  m 

Manolo.  If  I  thought  that  her  parents—  But  no,  let 
them  keep  her.  Precious  baggage !  Where  is  Don  Santiago  ? 
Has  he  said  anythmg  to  you  ?    Has  he  read  the  papers  ? 

Josefina.  I  don't  think  so.  He  never  reads  the  qppo- 
sition  papers.    But  that  letter—    If  he  ever  sees  that  letter ! 

Manolo.  Don  Baldomero  says  that  he  is  going  to  send  it 
to  the  minister  at  Madrid. 

Josefina.  It  would  take  more  than  that  to  shock  Garcia 
Pérez. 

Manolo.  Yes,  he  is  shock-proof. 

Josefina.  But  this  afternoon !  It  is  this  afternoon  I  am 
afraid  of. 

Manolo.  This  afternoon  you  will  have  a  triumph.  Every- 
thing is  provided  for. 

Josefina.  Do  you  think  so.? 

Manolo.  You  will  see.  When  Campos  comes  to  his 
speech,  it  will  be  a  sensation.  I  have  given  it  to  him  in  writ- 
ing and  he  is  studying  it  in  his  dressing-room.  He  will  say: 
"Your  Excellency,  I  fight  for  you  and  for  liberal  governors 
like  you,  for  virtuous  and  beautiful  women  like  those  who 
sit  at  your  side,  liberal  also  like  yourself.  For  the  bull  is  a 
reactionary,  and  he  would  be  for  obscuration  wherever  it 
was  to  be  found."  He  will  say  this  looking  straight  into  the 
box  of  Don  Baldomero.  "And  long  live  liberty!"  It  will 
be  an  ovation.  If  there  is  any  trouble,  we  have  packed  the 
amphitheatre.  He  who  protests. . . .  Have  no  fear,  Jose- 
fina, the  sovereign  public  is  with  us.  If  the  bulls  are  only 
good  and  Campos  in  form  so  as  to  arouse  the  people,  the 
victory  is  ours ! 

Josefina.  I  don't  know.  What  do  you  want  me  to  say  ? 
I  am  very  much  afraid. 

The  Marchioness  of  Torrelodones,  Don  Santiago 
and  the  Marquis  of  Torrelodones  enter. 


ACT  III  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  201 

Santiago.  We  had  better  not  show  ourselves  until  the 
last  moment. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  [To  Josefina]  How  is 
it  that  you  are  so  early  ? 

Josefina.  We  were  anxious  to  get  ahead  of  the  crowd. 
Later  the  men  stand  in  two  rows  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Yes,  but  they  don't  say 
such  things  as  they  do  in  Madrid.  [To  Manolo]  Are  you 
very  fond  of  bulls? 

Manolo.  I  know  very  little  about  them.  The  sooner 
they  are  disposed  of  the  more  agreeable  to  me. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  I  hope  that  everything 
will  pass  off  smoothly. 

Santiago.  I  know  absolutely  nothing  about  bulls.  The 
mayor  was  to  have  presided  this  year  as  usual,  but  there  was 
some  trouble  at  the  last  minute — an  unsavory  dispute  with 
the  management.  They  refused  to  give  him  the  contract  to 
remove  the  carcasses  and  dead  horses  for  his  brother-in-law, 
so  now  I  am  obliged  to  assume  the  responsibility. 

Marquis.  We  shall  prompt  you  at  the  proper  moment. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Remember  when  the 
picadors  are  on,  Campos  will  give  a  signal.  If  he  lays  his 
finger  beside  his  nose  you  are  to  call  for  banderillas.  Three 
pairs  will  do,  as  you  know,  unless  they  miss;  then  give  them 
four.  Or  if  the  bull  is  no  good,  two  will  be  sufficient.  It  is 
all  very  simple.    You  will  pick  it  up  as  you  go  along. 

Marquis.  In  case  you  are  uncertain  what  to  do,  the  public 
will  advise  you.  It  is  the  safest  way.  If  they  shout  "Hi,  hi ! 
Wake  up  there!"  or  "At  him.  Governor!"  or 

Santiago.  Or  call  me  idiot  or  fool,  I  suppose,  or  some- 
thing worse  ?  It  is  all  very  divertmg.  After  the  comedy  of 
yesterday,  the  tragedy  of  to-day ! 

Marquis.  Unfortunately  the  bulls  have  gone  stale  after 


202  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  in 

four  days  in  the  corrals.  It  was  a  great  mistake  upon  your 
part  to  postpone  the  corrida. 

Santiago.  That  is  right.  Blame  it  on  me !  It  will  be  my 
fault,  I  suppose,  if  they  turn  out  to  be  cows. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Don  Santiago,  you 
must  not  say  such  a  thing.  You  ought  to  see  that  mottled 
fellow,  though.    And  we  have  another  that  is  a  wonder ! 

Marquis.  Do  you  know,  I  can't  keep  Lucerito  away 
from  the  littlest  one.'^ 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  But  I  promised  that 
Campos  should  kill  him. 

Marquis.  What  can  I  do  ? 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  It  is  all  our  fault  for 
not  bringing  the  overseer  along. 

Manolo.  Is  this  a  pet  bull  ^ 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Oh,  I  took  a  fancy  to 
him,  so,  naturally,  I  wished  Campos  to  kill  him.  Sometimes 
one  will  take  a  fancy.  . .  . 

Josefina.  For  heaven's  sake !    What  a  fancy  to  take ! 

Santiago.  I  am  in  the  hands  of  the  Lord.  In  any  event, 
it  will  be  my  last  oflScial  act  in  the  province. 

Josefina.  Eh.'' 

Santiago.  I  have  telegraphed  my  resignation. 

Josefina  and  Manolo.  Your  resignation  ? 

Marquis.  Man !  Why  so  hasty.?  It  is  not  as  bad  as  that. 
You  take  these  trifles  too  seriously. 

Santiago.  Perhaps  I  do,  my  dear  Marquis.  But  if  the 
exigency  had  not  been  so  great,  I  should  have  resigned  long 
ago.    Order  must  be  preserved. 

Josefina.  But  don't  you  see  that  without  consulting  me 

without Now  people  will  believe they  will  say 

and  it  seems  to  justify  them .... 

Santiago.  What  will  they  say?    They  have  deceived  me. 


ACT  III  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  203 

you  have  deceived  me.    Everybody,  everybody  has  deceived 
me! 

Josefina.  Santiago! 

Santiago.  Everybody !  And  I  don't  care  to  hear  another 
word  about  it. 

Josefina.  [Aside  to  Manolo]  He  has  seen  the  letter. 

Manolo.  [Aside  to  Josefina]  No.  He  has  read  the  Abe- 
jorro. 

Josefina.  [Aside  to  Manolo]  His  resignation !  Now  what 
are  we  going  to  do  ? 

Manolo.  [Aside  to  Josefina]  Forget  it !  It  will  come  out 
all  right. 

Belisa,  Jimena,  Don  Basilio,  Don  Teodoro  and 
Don  Guillermo  enter, 

Teodoro.  How  charming  you  look  to-day ! 

Belisa.  Don  Teodoro,  you  are  a  flatterer ! 

Jimena.  We  are  too  clever  for  you.  When  you  are  with 
us,  you  need  not  think  that  you  have  all  the  sport. 

Guillermo.  Are  you  going  into  Don  Baldomero's  box? 

Basilio.  They  are  and  they  are  not. 

Teodoro.  The  devil  you  say !    How  is  that  ? 

Basilio.  It  is  our  wish  to  remain  neutral  in  these  quar- 
rels. My  daughters  are  invited  both  by  the  Governor  and 
by  Don  Baldomcro;  so,  in  order  not  to  give  offense 

Jimena.  I  am  going  into  the  Governor's  box. 

Belisa.  And  I  into  Don  Baldomero's. 

Teodoro.  Very  clever  indeed!  But  what  are  you  going 
to  do.'* 

Basilio.  I  am  going  home  when  I  leave  them.  These 
spectacles  do  not  divert  me;  on  the  contrary,  they  disgust 
me.  They  make  me  despair  of  the  future  of  this  unfortunate 
land. 


204  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  m 

Teodoro.  Bah!  As  long  as  we  have  the  sun — and  these 
ladies — we  shall  worry  along. 

JiMENA.  Thank  you  for  mcluding  us. 

Guillermo.  Were  you  at  the  theatre  last  evening  ? 

Basilio.  They  were  and  they  were  not. 

Teodoro.  Good !  One  was  and  the  other  was  not  ?  An 
excellent  idea ! 

Belisa.  Jimena  was  there. 

JiMENA.  It  was  very  exciting. 

Teodoro.  Tut,  tut,  there  was  nobody  there  but  men. 

JiMENA.  You  seemed  to  enjoy  it. 

Teodoro.  We  are  invited  to  sit  with  Don  Baldomcro. 

Basilio.  I  must  leave  Jimena  with  Josefina. 

Belisa.  Goodness,  papa!  Not  before  the  ladies  arrive. 
It  would  never  do  for  me  to  be  left  alone  with  these  gentle- 
men. [To  Don  Teodoro  and  Don  Guillermo]  Not  with 
your  reputations ! 

Teodoro.  I  assure  you  we  shall  be  judicious. 

Basilio.  Nonsense!  Don  Teodoro  is  old  enough  to  be 
your  father.     He  might  be  for  all  you  know. 

Belisa.  Why,  papa! 

Teodoro.  He  might  and  he  might  not. 

Basilio.  Come  with  me,  Jimena.  Good-by,  my  dear. 
Remember,  we  meet  in  front  of  the  Palace. 

Belisa.  [Going  into  the  box]  What  a  magnificent  sight ! 

Teodoro.  Did  you  ever  see  a  woman  look  ugly  in  a  man- 
tilla.'^ [To  Guillermo]  Lend  me  your  glasses;  they  magnify 
better  than  mine  do. 

Josefina.  Jimena! 

Santiago.  How  charming  you  look  to-day ! 

Basilio.  I  am  leaving  her  with  you. 

Santiago.  But  you?    Aren't  you  going  to  stay? 


ACT  III  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  205 

Basilio.  No.  I  do  not  care  for  these  spectacles.  On  the 
contrary,  they  disgust  me.    Good  day. 

JiMENA.  Good-by,  papa. 
Don  Basilio  goes  out. 

Josefina.  But  where  is  Belisa.? 

Jimena.  Belisa  is  in  the  next  box. 

Josefina.  Oh !    With  the  Remolinos  J 

Jimena.  Yes,  they  invited  us  both,  but,  of  course,  we  both 
preferred  to  come  with  you.  So  in  order  not  to  give  offense, 
we  had  to  draw  lots,  and  I  was  the  more  fortunate. 

Josefina.  It  is  very  kind  of  you  to  say  so. 

Doña  O,  Esperanza  and  Don  Baldomero  enter, 

Baldomero.  We  have  plenty  of  time. 

Esperanza.  Is  that  the  reason  you  kept  shouting  at  me, 
"Hurry  up !    Hurry  up ! "  .'^ 

Baldomero.  What  else  could  I  do,  my  dear,  with  you  try- 
ing on  seven  dresses  and  fourteen  mantillas,  without  getting 
anywhere  with  any  of  them .? 

Esperanza.  The  result  is  I  look  like  a  fright. 

Doña  O.  You  are  too  much  for  your  papa  and  mamma. 
I  cannot  stand  this  any  longer,  now  that  Petronila  has  left. 
She  will  never  do  our  hair  for  us  again  after  the  way  you 
have  treated  her. 

Esperanza.  I  don't  care  if  she  doesn't,  mamma.  If  you 
are  going  to  talk  all  afternoon,  I  might  as  well  sit  with 
Josefina. 

Doña  O.  This  is  too  much.  That  a  child  should  strike  her 
parent  such  a  blow ! 

Baldomero.  Esperanza,  listen  to  me.  No  more  of  your 
nonsense !  I  forbid  you  to  notice  anybody  in  the  next  box. 
I  intend  to  create  a  scandal  in  the  plaza. 

Esperanza.  A  scandal  ?  So  that  is  what  you  brought  me 
here  for  ? 


206  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  iii 

Doña  O.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  We  wanted  to  get  some- 
where where  there'd  be  more  noise  than  you  could  make. 

Baldomero.  Now  don't  begin  to  cry.  Come  on  into  the 
box. — ^How  do  you  do,  gentlemen  ? 

Teodoro.  Baldomero! 

Belisa.  How  charming  you  look  to-day ! 

Teodoro.  Wonderful!    Superb! 

Esperanza.  And  Jimena  ? 

Belisa.  Oh !  She  is  with  Josefina.  They  invited  us  both. 
Of  course,  we  both  preferred  to  come  with  you,  so  in  order 
not  to  give  offense,  we  had  to  draw  lots,  and  I  was  the  more 
fortunate. 

Doña  O.  Did  you  have  to  draw  lots  last  night  to  see  who 
was  to  go  to  the  theatre  ? 

Belisa.  I  should  think  we  did.  And  poor  Jimena  was 
sacrificed ! 

Baldomero.  I  suppose  you  were  there  ? 

Teodoro.  Don  Baldomero !  Between  the  acts,  as  it  were, 
out  of  curiosity — to  see  who  was  in  the  audience.  I  never 
heard  such  shouting  and  yelling,  booing  and  hissing,  over 
nothing  as  it  seemed  to  me. 

Do^A  O.  They  broke  all  our  windows  when  they  came  out. 

Esperanza.  I  lost  some  lovely  double  geraniums  which  I 
had  on  my  balcony. 

Baldomero.  And  all  in  the  name  of  Liberty ! 

Doña  O.  All  because  we  have  an  idiot  for  a  governor 
who  does  not  even  know  how  to  govern  his  wife ! 

Baldomero.  He  cannot  control  his  wife,  yet  he  expects  to 
rule  a  province. 

Esperanza.  Papa,  be  careful !  They'll  hear  us.  They  are 
in  the  next  box. 

Doña  O.  That  is  the  reason  he  speaks  so  loudly. 

Baldomero.  We  want  them  to  hear. 


ACT  III  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  ^07 

Josefina.  [To  Manolo]  Are  they  there  yet?    Listen 

Manolo.  Yes.     I  hear  Don  Baldomero. 

Josefina.  And  I  hear  his  wife.  They  may  drive  my  hus- 
band back  to  Madrid,  but  before  they  do,  I  promise  you  that 
they  will  hear  from  me.    Oh,  they  will  hear  from  me ! 

Manolo.  How  lovely  you  are  when  you  are  angry !  How 
lovely  you  always  are ! 

Josefina.  And  you  are  like  the  people — too  forward.  I 
shall  have  to  suspend  the  constitutional  guarantees. 

Doña  O.  Sit  down  by  me,  Belisa.  [To  Esperanza]  You 
sit  on  this  side. 

Belisa.  I  warn  you,  I  shall  scream  the  whole  afternoon. 
Only  think !    The  bull  may  catch  a  man ! 

Teodoro.  It  must  seem  incredible —  I  mean,  he  may,  he 
may. 

Santiago.  It  is  time  to  begin.  We  had  better  pass  in. 
The  ladies  on  this  side. .  .  . 

Marquis.  Yes,  as  far  from  Your  Excellency  as  possible. 
Otherwise  it  might  deprive  the  public  of  the  freedom  to  pro- 
test. 

Santiago.  Do  you  think  so  ?  Perhaps  we  had  best  all  sit 
together. . . . 

Josefina.  Come,  Carmen !    Come,  Jimena ! 
PoLiTO  and  Reguera  enter. 

PoLiTO.  This  is  not  a  box.  Reguera — it  is  a  garden  of 
flowers. 

Ladies.  Thank  you !    Thank  you  so  much ! 

Marquis.  Are  you  in  costume,  Polito?  Do  you  expect 
to  qualify  in  the  corrida  ? 

Santiago.  Remain  by  me,  gentlemen.     You  understand 
these  things  better  than  I  do.    I  never  presided  over  anything 
in  my  life  except  the  Provincial  Deputation. 
Commotion  in  the  arena. 


208  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  iii 

Marquis.  It  is  time  to  begin. 

Santiago.  Good !    Pass  in. 

They  enter  the  box;  the  Governob  gives  the  signal. 
Trumpet. 

Josefina.  [To  Manolo]  No  applause  at  the  entrance  of 
my  husband  ?    A  bad  sign ! 

Manolo.  Wait.    They  are  holding  back. 
Hisses. 

Josefina.  Ah !    They  hiss. 

Manolo.  It's  the  algtuwil.    He  has  lost  a  stirrup. 

Josefina.  Ay  I  But  they  have  rattles !  They  are  shaking 
them  at  me. 

Grand  march  and  entrance  of  the  toreros.    Loud  applause. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Campos!  There's 
Campos!  How  graceful  that  man  is  in  the  arena!  He  is 
wearing  my  cloak. 

PoLiTo.  He  has  a  i;ew  suit. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  The  first  time  of  every- 
thing. 

The  Marchioness   of   Villaquejido   and  Teresa 
enter. 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  We  are  late. 

Teresa.  The  parade  has  begun.  Hurry,  I  like  a  fine  en- 
trance       How  do  you  do  ?    Gracious !    What  a  crowd ! 

Isn't  it  stirring? 

Doña  O.  Come  right  in. 

Santiago.  You  throw  the  key,  Polito.  I'll  be  sure  to  hit 
somebody  on  the  head. 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  Did  Josefina  come  with 
her  husband.^ 

Doña  O.  Yes,  they  are  in  the  next  box.  Who  ever  heard 
of  such  eflfrontery  ?  Exhibiting  herself  in  public  after  what 
happened  this  morning !    Never  mention  her  to  me  again. 


ACT  III  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  209 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  Never  mention  her  to 
me. 

Trumpet.     Applause. 

Marquis.  Ah !    Ah !    What  do  you  think  of  him  ? 

PoLiTO.  I  can't  see  the  animal. 

Marquis.  Didn't  I  tell  you  ? 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Beautiful!  Divine! 
By  Marrullero  out  of  La  Pintada,  isn't  he,  papa.'* 

Marquis.  You  understand  these  things  better  than  I. 

Teodoro.  [To  Don  Guillermo]  Can  you  tell  me  who 
that  buxom  blonde  is  in  the  front  row  of  Section  Eight.'' 

Guillermo.  Who  is  she  ?    Oh [In  Teodoro's  ear. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Everybody  knows  who 
she  is. 

Marquis.  Now  for  some  sport. 

PoLiTO.  The  picadors ! 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Why  doesn't  Campos 
throw  off  that  cloak  .^ 

PoLiTO.  Why  doesn't  he  ?    I  wonder. 

Reguera.  How  would  you  like  to  be  in  the  ring  now? 

Marquis.  The  fools !  Look !  Look !  They'll  murder  the 
bull 

Santiago.  But  what  are  they  there  for.?* 

Baldomero.  You  needn't  tell  me  that  is  a  bull.  It  is  from 
the  herd  of  that  marquis  from  Madrid.?  Ha!  It  must  be 
from  Madrid ! 

Teodoro.  It  looks  to  me  like  an  ox. 

Guillermo.  [Shouting]  Ox! 

Teresa.  What  makes  you  call  him  an  ox.'' 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  Don't  ask  foolish  ques- 
tions, Teresa. 

Marquis.  What  are  they  doing  ?    What  a  way  to  begin ! 


210  THE   GOVERNOR'S   WIFE  act  m 

Belisa  and  Jimena.  [Screaming]  Oh!  Oh!  He'll  catch 
him,  he'll  km  him! 

Josefina.  That  wasn't  so  bad  after  all. 

Doña  O.  Don't  scream  like  that.  There  is  no  reason  for 
you  to  be  afraid. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  What  is  the  matter 
with  Campos  ?    Why  don't  they  go  at  him  the  right  way  ? 

Reguera.  I'll  give  him  a  tip 

PoLiTO.  Don't  shout  down  from  here. 

Josefina.  How  absurd !    He  is  running  away. 

Manolo.  Good  afternoon,  he  says,  that  will  be  all  for 
to-day. 

Santiago.  When  a  bull  won't  fight,  what  are  you  going  to 
do? 

Marquis.  Who  says  he  won't  fight  ?  They  don't  give  him 
a  chance.  They  don't  go  at  him  the  right  way.  Ha !  Send 
that  rascal  to  jail !  He'll  injure  the  animal.  What  does  he 
get  paid  for  ? 

Cries  and  hooting  in  the  arena.     "Back  to  the  peni'' 
"Give  him  torpedoes T' 

Santiago.  They  call  for  torpedoes. 

Marquis.  It  will  be  a  damned  outrage,  sir,  if  you  give 
them  torpedoes. 

Santiago.  Ah !    Another  discussion ! 

PoLiTO.  Take  care !  He  may  strike  you.  The  Marquis  is 
capable  of  anything  when  it  comes  to  his  bulls. 

Santiago.  That  would  be  the  last  indignity.  Does  he  ex- 
pect me  to  go  down  into  the  arena  and  pull  him  out  by  the 
tail  ?  There  you  are !  [Rhythmic  hand-clapping.  Palmas  de 
tango]  What  is  that? 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Palmas  de  tango,  the 
latest  thing  in  Madrid. 

Polito.  Yes,  I  introduced  it  here  last  season  myself. 


ACT  III  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  211 

Marquis.  With  the  first  automobile.  I  suppose  that  was 
the  fault  of  the  bull.  Look !  Look !  What  a  way  to  handle 
a  lance ! 

Tremendous  uproar.  ** Torpedoes!  Torpedoes T*  Hisses. 
^'What's  the  matter?''   ''Wake  up  there!   Wake  up!'* 

Josefina.  Didn't  I  tell  you .? 

Manolo.  The  bull  has  settled  down  for  a  nap. 

Santiago.  Now  what  am  I  to  do  ? 

Teodoro.  Shoot  him,  I  say. 

Baldomero.  He  must  have  influence  with  the  liberal 
party.    He  is  gubernatorial. 

The  uproar  increases.         \ 

JiMENA  AND  Belisa.  Ay  1  Ay!  He'll  catch  him,  he'll  kill 
him! 

Josefina.  Don't  you  hear  the  people,  Santiago  ? 

Santiago.  Don't  you  see  the  Marquis,  Josefina  ? 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Campos  gives  the  sig- 
nal. 

Santiago.  The  signal  for  what?    The  benediction? 

Marquis.  For  the  banderillas, 

Santiago.  'What  banderillas?  With  torpedoes ? 

Marquis.  How  torpedoes  ? 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  It  doesn't  matter.  Let 
Campos  fix  the  torpedoes.  He  will  make  it  all  right  with  the 
people. 

Santiago.  Good !  The  banderillas  I  Ah !  Now  she  is  the 
one  to  blame. 

He  gives  the  signal.    Trumpet.    Hisses,  followed  by  ap- 
plause. 

Marchioness  op  Torrelodones.  No  wonder.  As  soon 
as  he  saw  the  banderillas. . .  . 

Marquis.  Ha !    That  bull  can  never  bear  fire. 

Santiago.  No,  he  is  more  accustomed  to  drawing  water. 


212  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  iii 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  There !    See  him  turn ! 
Beautiful. . . . 

Torpedoes. 
JiMENA  AND  Belisa.  Ay  t    Ay  t    Ay! 
Josefina.  Holy  Mother !    What  nerves ! 

AfplaiLse. 
Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  A  hit!     A  hit!     He 
threw  in  a  pair!     [Applause]  Another!    Another!    I  shall 
go  out  of  my  head. 
JiMENA  AND  Belisa.  ^2^/    Ay!    Ay! 
Santiago.  It  is  coming  out  all  right  after  all. 
Marquis.  Give  the  signal  to  kill. 
Santiago.  To  kill.?    What  a  pity! 
He  gives  the  signal.     Trumpet. 
Manolo.  Now  for  the  speech.     Aha,  Don  Baldomcro! 
Your  time  has  come.    Now  for  the  verdict  of  the  people. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.   I  wonder  what  he  is 
going  to  say.    Something  gallant,  of  course.    Campos  is  so 

clever  at  making  speeches Everywhere  he  goes,  it  is  the 

same .... 

Campos.  [Within]  Your    Excellency liberal beauti- 
ful.. .  .ladies. . .  .liberal  also  like  yourself And  long  live 

liberty ! 

Great  ovation.     Vivas  to  liberty.     Vivas  for  the  Gov- 
ernor, vivas  for  the  Governor's  wife. 
Marquis.  Bow,  bow  !    And  you  bow !    All  bow ! 
Baldomero.  What  a  farce!    This  is  intolerable!    I  will 
not  submit  to  it. 

He  rises  from  his  seat;  cries  of  ''Death  to  the  reaction- 
aries !  "    **  Down  with  obscuration  I  "    Hisses. 
Manolo.  I  wonder  who  is  getting  his  now. 
Doña  O.  But  it  is  not  for  you  ?    It  is  not  for  us  ? 
Esperanza.  Ay  y  papa !    It  is  for  us ! 


ACT  III  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  213 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  The  ruffians ! No, 

no !    Impossible ! 
Belisa.  An  insult !    To  you  ? 

Doña  O.  Disgusting !    Come !    They  are  booting  my  hus- 
band.    There  is  no  respect,  no  decency  anywhere. 

Baldomero.  I  will  teach  them  a  lesson!     I  will  show 
them !    This  was  all  put  up  beforehand. 
Teodoro.  There  must  be  some  mistake. 
Marquis.  The  bull  is  cooling  off ! 

Doña  O.  No,  no.    Don't  speak  to  me !    Let  us  go !    Let 
us  go! 

Marchioness  of  Villaquejido.  And  we  shall  go  with 
you. 

Belisa.  Yes,  indeed,  Doña  O ! 

Doña  O,  Esperanza,   Teresa,   Bemsa,  the  Mar- 
chioness OF  Villaquejido  and  Don  Baldomero 
go  out. 
Teodoro.  Well,  they  are  gone.    I  must  say  I  am  glad  of 
it. 
Guillermo.  Now  we  can  enjoy  ourselves. 
Teodoro.  It  served  them  right.    There  is  no  doubt  where 
the  people  stand. 

Voices :  **  Riego  I    Riego  !    The  *Hymn  of  Riego  '  /  '* 
Santiago.  They  are  calling  for  the  "  Hymn  of  Riego." 
Marquis.  The  bull  is  cooling  off ! 

uproar.    Cushions  thrown  and  missiles.    A  bottle  strikes 
the  side  of  the  box  and  breaks  above  the  heads  of  the 


'   Marchioness  op  Torrelodones.  How  can  they  expect 
Campos  to  kill  the  bull  when  they  throw  things  like  that  ? 
Voices  :  *' Riego  I    Riego  I  " 

Santiago.  Where  is  the  speaking-tube?    Ah ! 

Marquis.  Tell  them  to  play  the  "  Hymn  of  Riego." 


214  THE  GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  iii 

Santiago.  Of  course.  [Through  the  tube]  The  "Hymn  of 
Riego  "  !    Yes,  tell  them  to  play  the  "  Hymn  of  Riego.'* 

Manolo.  What  do  they  say  ? 

Santiago.  Another  complication !    They  don't  know  it. 
A  second  bottle. 

Josefina.  I  wish  they  would  stop  throwing  those  bottles. 
Somebody  is  going  to  get  hurt. 

Santiago.  [Through  the  tube]  Hello !  The  Herald !  Yes, 
send  for  the  Herald.  Tell  him  to  announce  that  the  band 
can't  play  the  "'Hymn  of  Riego,"  because  it  doesn't  know 
it,  but  it  will  learn  it  by  to-morrow.     How  is  that? 

All,  Good!    Good! 

Santiago.  Now  see  if  they  won't  be  quiet. 

Manolo.  [To  Josefina]  Don  Baldomcro  has  left — and  his 
family  with  him.    What  did  I  tell  you  ?   , 

Josefina.  You  are  a  genius. 

Manolo.  Only  that.?    I  am  a  friend 

The  voice  of  the  Herald  is  heard. 

Herald.  Ladies  and  gentlemen:  The  band  can't  play  the 
"Hymn  of  Riego"  because  it  doesn't  know  it,  but  it  will 
learn  it  by  to-morrow,  so  as  to  be  able  to  play  it  hereafter 
whenever  required. 

Drum.    Applause.    Distant  '* Vivas." 

Marquis.  Bow  !    Bow !    All  bow ! 
Ovation. 

Santiago.  Really,  I  am  very  much  affected.  The  people 
— more  than  the  people,  the  entire  community  acclaims  a 
man  when  he  has  had  the  courage  to  do  his  duty. 

Josefina.  And  to  whom  do  you  owe  this  triumph,  Santi- 
ago ?     Who  gave  you  advice  ? 

Santiago.  You— yes,  you— one  way  or  the  other,  but  you 
always  gave  me  advice !    Now  we  shall  have  to  wait  for  them 


ACT  III  THE  GOVERNOR'S   WIEE  215 

to  clear  the  arena.    It  seems  incredible  that  they  could  have 
thrown  so  many  things  in  such  a  little  while. 

Manolo.  My  only  regret  is  that  no  one  was  hit. 

Marquis.  The  bull  is  cooling  off. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Poor  Campos!     They 
won't  give  him  a  chance. 
The  Clerk  enters. 

Santiago.  What  is  the  matter  ? 

Clerk.  A  telegram  for  Your  Excellency. 

Santiago.  Here !     Give  it  to  me. 

Josefina.  From  Madrid  ? 

Santiago.  Yes.  You  open  it,  Manolo.  I  am  so  nervous. 
Everything  upsets  me  to-day. 

Manolo.  The  reply.  Just  as  I  thought.  [Reading]  "Crisis 
imminent.    Ministry  more  strongly  liberal." 

Santiago,  ^h.? 

Manolo.  "Government  refuses  to  accept  resignation. 
Congratulates  you  upon  your  liberal  campaign  and  offers 
governorship  of  the  first  class." 

Santiago.  Of  the  first  class !    Josefina ! 

Marquis.  Felicitations. 

Polito.  Best  wishes ! 

Santiago.  Embrace  me !    And  you !    And  you ! 
He  embraces  all  the  ladies. 

JiMENA.  We  didn't  come  for  nothing  after  all. 

Josefina.  You  see  how  it  is!  If  it  hadn't  been  for  me, 
where  would  you  have  been?  And  yet  you  allowed  yourself 
to  doubt,  yes,  perhaps  even  to  suspect  me!  If.  y  on  only 
knew  what  I  have  gone  through  with  for  you ! 

Santiago.  And  I  for  you!  But  doubt  you?  Believe  those 
calumnies  ?    Never,  Josefina !    Never ! 

Josefina.  Now  you  talk  like  a  man.  I  knew  that  some 
day  you  would  do  me  justice. 


¿16  THE   GOVERNOR'S  WIFE  act  m 

PoLiTO.  Of  the  first  class!  Of  the  first  class!  Come! 
Come !    We  must  celebrate.    Some  wine ! 

Santiago.  Bring  wine ! 

Teodoro.  [Entering  the  box]  We  must  celebrate  with  you. 
We  are  all  one  now;  there  are  no  divisions  among  us  any 
more.  [All  laugh]  What  a  bevy  of  beautiful  ladies!  And 
here's  to  you !  [They  drink.    General  laughter. 

Marquis.  The  ring  is  clear.    Campos  is  after  the  bull. 

All.  The  bull!    The  bull! 

Teodoro.  A  fine  pass. 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Did  you  see  him  turn  ? 
What  a  feint !    Again !    Again !    I  shall  go  out  of  my  head ! 

PoLiTO.  Now  he'll  show  us. 

Santiago.  The  critical  moment. 

JiMENA.  Ay  I    Ay  I    Ay  t 

All.  Hurrah!  Hurrah!  Dead  without  a  struggle !  Bravo! 
Bravo ! 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  How  was  that?  How 
was  that?  [Applause.  Voices:  'What* s  the  matter  with  you  f 
*'Hi,  there r  "fFaA;e  wp/"]  What  is  the  matter?  What  are 
you  waiting  for?    Stand  up! 

Santiago.  I?  Stand  up?  Ah!  What  an  afternoon! 
What  a  festival !  A  people  that  within  half  an  hour  hisses 
me,  applauds  me,  shouts  vivas  in  the  name  of  liberty,  acclaims 
a  bull-fighter,  cheers  the  ladies,  then  falls  to  hissing  and  then 
to  applaud  again— oh !  how  is  such  a  people  to  be  governed 
by  mere  man? 

Manolo.  Nothing  could  be  easier.  Like  ladies  and 
toreros  y  tlie  people  cannot  be  governed;  they  must  be  enter- 
tained. 

Marquis.  Don  Santiago !    The  second  bull ! 

Santiago.  Great  heaven !  It  may  spoil  everything.  Ah, 
Manolo,  in  my  emotion  I  forgot  to  thank  you !    Whatever 


ACT  III  THE  GOVERNOR'S   WIFE  217 

my  destiny,  wherever  I  may  be,  I  want  you  always  to  re- 
main with  me,  I  want  you  always  to  be  at  my  side. 

ManoloI  Don  Santiago ! 

Santiago.  I  can  never  repay  you.  In  these  days  of  trial, 
you  have  been  the  real  governor,  you,  you  have  taken  my 
place. 

Manolo.  Don  Santiago ! 

Uproar,     Cries  in  the  arena. 

Marquis.  The  second  bull ! 

They  re-enter  the  box.    Applause,    Santiago  gives  the 
signal, 

Manolo.  [To  Josefina,  who  remains  below]  Well,  are  you 
satisfied?    Do  I  deserve  your  confidence,  your  respect? 

Josefina.  I  don't  know You  torment  me,  you 

[Trumpets]  Ay  I    What  a  shock! 

Manolo.  You  are  nervous. 

Josefina.  I  am  nervous,  I  confess  it.  I  don't  know  how 
to  thank  you.  You  have  sacrificed,  you  are  about  to  sacrifice 
so  much  for  me — your  future,  your. . . . 

Manolo.  My  future  ?  It  is  for  you  to  decide.  Shall  I  re- 
turn to  Madrid  ?    Shall  I  accept  the  offer  of  Don  Santiago  ? 

Josefina.  What  shall  I  say  ? 

Marquis.  A  hit !    A  hit !    Ha !    A  home  thrust ! 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  Josefina ! Bravo ! 

Bravo !    Break  away !    Break  away ! 

Josefina.  Accept 

Marchioness  of  Torrelodones.  I  wonder  what  that  fel- 
low is  up  to? 

Tremendom  applause.    Ovation.    "Music!    MusicI " 

Curtain 


/ 


AUTUMNAL   ROSES 

COMEDY    IN    THREE    ACTS 

First  Presented  by  the  Compañía  Guerrero-Mendoza 
AT  THE  Teatro  Español,  Madrid,  on  the  Evening 
OF  THE  Thirteenth  of  April,  1905 


CHARACTERS 

Isabel 

María  Antonia 

Carmen 

Laura 

Josefina 

Luisa 

Gonzalo 

Pepe 

Ramón 

Manuel 

Adolphe 

A  Servant 


THE   FIRST   ACT 

Salon  in  a  home  in  Madrid,  furnished  with  refinement  and 
taste.  As  the  curtain  rises,  Gonzalo  is  speaking  with  a 
Servant. 

Gonzalo.  Have  my  clothes  at  the  club  before  seven. 

Should  any  letters  arrive 

Isabel  enters. 

Isabel.  Are  you  going  out?    Do  not  be  long. 

Gonzalo.  How  is  that? 

Isabel.  You  are  the  most  irresponsible  man  I  ever  saw. 
Have  you  forgotten  that  Maria  Antonia  and  Pepe  are  com- 
ing to  dinner?    And  we  have  asked  a  few  friends. 

Gonzalo.  Do  you  know,  it  had  quite  slipped  my  mind? 

Isabel.  Did  you  plan  to  dine  out? 

Gonzalo.  Yes,  at  the  club.  I  have  some  business  with 
Aguirre  and  his  partner  in  reference  to  that  affair  at  Bilbao. 
I  must  drop  him  a  line.    [To  the  Servant]  You  may  wait. 

[He  seats  himself  and  begins  to  write. 

Isabel.  I  hope  you  are  not  disappointed  ? 

Gonzalo.  No,  although  I  am  sorry  I  did  not  think  of  it 
before.    I  am  in  no  humor  for  company  this  evening. 

Isabel.  We  expect  only  a  few — in  fact,  scarcely  any  one 
but  the  family. 

Gonzalo.  Who  is  coming  ? 

Isabel.  Maria  Antonia  and  Pepe,  Laura,  Ramón  and  Car- 
men with  their  daughter,  besides  Manuel  Arenales.  I  have 
asked  your  correspondent's  son  and  his  wife,  the  bride  and 
groom,  as  well.  The  dinner  is  in  their  honor,  so  that  makes 
it  more  formal.    I  am  surprised  that  you  should  forget  it. 

221 


222  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

Gonzalo.  The  bride  and  groom  ?  Ah,  yes !  I  remember 
I  am  so  sorry. 

Isabel.  Perhaps  you  will  conceal  your  feelings,  as  you 
almost  prostrated  yourself  to  entertain  them  when  they  first 
arrived  in  Madrid;  the  change  would  come  as  too  much  of  a 
shock — although  I  never  cared  for  them  myself.  He  seems 
foolish,  and  she — well,  she  is  too  forward.  To  convince  us 
that  she  talks  Spanish,  she  employs  the  most  objectionable 
language. 

Gonzalo.  May  I  have  a  moment  ?  I  have  made  two  slips 
already 

Isabel.  I  beg  your  pardon.    You  should  have  said  so. 

Gonzalo.  [To  the  Servant]  Take  this  letter  to  the  club. 
Never  mind  the  clothes.  Lay  them  out  in  my  room.  [The 
Servant  withdraws]  At  what  hour  do  we  have  dinner  ? 

Isabel.  At  half  after  seven — half  an  hour  earlier  than 
usual,  so  as  to  accommodate  the  young  Parisians.  In  Paris 
they  dine  early.  When  Arenales  drops  in  at  about  nine,  that 
French  girl  will  say  that  all  Spaniards  have  bad  manners. 

Gonzalo.  What  French  girl  ? 

Isabel.  The  bride.    A  foolish  question  to  ask ! 

GbNZALO.  She  is  not  French.    Besides,  I  consider  it  bad  < 
taste  to  call  people  names.    No  one  could  be  more  thoroughly    ^<^ 
Spanish — she  has  lived  in  Paris  all  her  life,  so  that  I  find   Jy 
her  intelligent,  indeed  especially  delightful.  i 

Isabel.  I  had  no  idea  that  you  felt  so  strongly. 

Gonzalo.  Nonsense.  Do  we  have  to  go  through  this  all 
over  again  ? 

Isabel.  All  over  again .?>  How  about* me.''  How  do  you 
suppose  I  feel  ? 

Gonzalo.  You  are  a  martyr  of  course:  this  is  intolerable. 

Isabel.  Gonzalo,  you  are  not  willing  to  let  me  say  a  sin- 
gle word.    You  don't  like  it  if  I  am  silent,  either. 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  ^rs 

Gonzalo.  No,  I  prefer  to  have  you  talk — talk  all  the  time, 
only  be  direct  about  it;  don't  insinuate.  I  know  why  you 
don't  like  that  girl:  it  is  because  you  think  I  am  fond  of  her; 
you  think  that  I  am  in  love  with  all  women. 

Isabel.  Not  all  women. 

Gonzalo.  No  doubt  you  would  be  happier  if  I  possessed 
the  manners  of  a  boor.  Laura  is  the  only  woman  you  are 
willing  to  receive  in  the  house;  in  your  eyes,  apparently,  she 
is  perfectly  safe. 

Isabel.  You  will  never  fall  in  love  with  Laura.  She  is  too 
fond  of  you. 

Gonzalo.  I  seem  to  have  heard  that  story  before. 

Isabel.  It  is  truer  than  most  of  your  stories. 

Gonzalo.  Yes,  my  stories !  Don  Juan  Tenorio !  No 
woman  is  safe  in  my  hands.  Don't  you  see  that  your  jeal- 
ousy only  makes  us  both  ridiculous  ?  We  are  not  children;  I 
was  not  a  child  when  I  married  you — I  was  a  widower  when 
I  was  a  mere  boy;  I  have  a  married  daughter.  Nobody 
imagines  that  I  was  looking  for  a  nurse  when  I  proposed 
to  you,  like  most  widowers  who  have  children.  If  my 
heart  had  been  so  fickle  and  flighty,  why  should  I  have 
married  again  ?    What  good  would  it  have  done  me  ? 

Isabel.  None;  except  that  you  had  set  your  heart  on  it, 

Gonzalo.  On  what  ? 

Isabel.  There  was  no  other  way  with  me. 

Gonzalo.  You  could  have  refused  me  if  that  was  your 
opinion  of  me;  you  had  another  way. 

Isabel.  I  thought  that  you  loved  me. 

Gonzalo.  Loved  you  ?    Don't  I  love  you  ? 

Isabel.  Yes,  you  do.    It  is  very  easy  to  love  me. 

Gonzalo.  Why  are  you  so  fascinated  with  the  role  of 
martyr.'*     Do  you  think  it  becoming? 

Isabel.  I  don't  know;  it  is  very  trying.     The  hardest 


224  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

thing  about  it  is  trying  not  to  show  how  hard  it  is.  Your 
only  excuse  is  that  you  don't  know  how  much  you  make  me 
suffer. 

Gonzalo.  Although  some  day  I  am  likely  to  find  out.  I 
am  a  tyrant,  a  monster,  an  evil  genius — ^I,  a  poor,  inoffensive 
gentleman,  who  thinks  of  nothing  but  his  business,  his  wife, 
bis  daughter,  his  home,  who  never  cared  for  nor  even  dreamed 
of  anything  else ! 

Isabel.  As  for  myself,  I  say  nothing,  because  I  am  used 
to  it.  But  you  owe  something  to  your  daughter — yes,  our 
daughter — I  love  her  as  much  as  if  she  were  mine.  I  suppose 
you  think  that  she  is  wedded  to  the  role  of  martyr  like  I  am, 
when  she  has  everything  in  the  world  to  make  her  happy.'* 

Gonzalo.  María  Antonia  ?  Never !  That  is,  unless .... 
But  no,  you  would  be  incapable 

Isabel.  Yes,  Gonzalo,  and  it  is  not  her  fault  either;  it  is 
yours,  her  husband's — men's.  You  are  as  God  made  you,  or 
else  as  opportunity  has,  or  as  bad  as  the  law  will  allow,  for 
you  have  made  it  yourselves.  It  is  as  lenient  with  your  faults 
as  it  is  intolerant  of  ours. 

Gonzalo.  Are  we  elevating  the  discussion  to  a  moral  and 
philosophical  plane  ?  It  is  time  to  dress.  I  cannot  afford  to 
get  into  any  worse  humor. 

Isabel.  You  certainly  cannot.  Don't  you  care  to  hear 
about  your  daughter  ? 

Gonzalo.  But  what  am  I  to  hear?  That  she  is  jealous  of 
her  husband,  as  you  are  of  me,  and  upon  precisely  the  same 
grounds.     I  am  sorry  for  poor  Pepe. 

Isabel.  However,  Maria  Antonia  is  right,  and  it  is  my 
duty  to  warn  you.  I  talk  to  her  exactly  as  you  do  to  me, 
although  you  will  never  believe  it;  I  tell  her  that  it  is  of  no 
consequence,  that  Pepe  is  neither  better  nor  worse  than 
other  husbands;  it  is  no  disgrace  and  nothing  to  feel  badly  \ 
about,  anyway. 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  225 

Gonzalo.  Do  you  talk  like  that  to  Maria  Antonia?  It 
does  seem  incredible. 

Isabel.  I  not  only  talk  to  her,  I  convince  her.  Maria  An- 
tonia is  not  a  woman  of  my  disposition;  she  is  excitable, 
her  temperament  is  not  one  to  resign  itself.  Besides,  she 
does  not  love  her  husband  as  I  do  you.  She  was  in  love 
with  another  man  when  she  married. 

Gonzalo.  Whom  she  might  just  as  well  have  married; 
there  was  no  objection.  I  never  was  able  to  understand  why 
she  broke  off  with  Enrique  so  suddenly.  His  mother  and 
you  had  your  heads  together  by  the  hour;  then  Maria  An- 
tonia made  up  her  mind  that  she  did  not  love  him  over- 
night, and  the  boy  left  Madrid.  The  ways  of  women  are 
inexplicable. 

Isabel.  Ignorance  is  your  invariable  excuse.  Do  you  mean 
to  tell  me  that  there  was  no  obstacle  to  the  marriage  of 
your  daughter  with  Carmen's  son.'^ 

Gonzalo.  I  thought  that  was  coming.  Now  I  have  been 
too  friendly  with  Carmen.  I  explained  how  that  was;  that 
was  before  we  were  married — in  fact,  before  I  was  a  widower. 

Isabel.  Which  is  a  great  comfort  to  me.  Yes,  Carmen  is 
my  most  intimate  friend.  She  has  suffered  dreadfully,  and 
her  confession  was  not  only  more  sweeping,  it  was  far  more 
sincere  than  yours.  She  has  told  me  everything;  she  could 
not  rest  until  she  made  me  promise  by  all  that  was  dear  to 
me,  to  spare  no  effort  to  persuade  Maria  Antonia  to  give 
up  Enrique,  while  she  did  whatever  she  could  to  influence 
her  son. 

Gonzalo.  Why,  does  she  think 

Isabel.  She  was  not  sure.  Prejudice  and  the  law  are  very 
well,  but  we  cannot  avoid  the  consequences  of  our  acts, 
wholly  irrespective  of  sex.  A  man  may  doubt  what  children 
are  really  his,  but  a  woman  never  knows  whether  her  chil- 


226  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

dren's  brothers  and  sisters  may  not  become  their  husbands 
and  wives.  Did  you  know  that  you  had  made  your  daughter 
very  unhappy  ?  A  trifling  matter  may  become  of  importance; 
thoughtlessness  has  its  results.  But  I  am  sorry  that  I  told 
you — I  intended  to  keep  this  to  myself,  but  I  was  afraid  for 
your  daughter's  sake,  and  little  by  little,  without  meaning  it, 
I  have  let  you  see  what  was  in  my  heart,  I  have  told  you 
everything,  because  I  am  afraid,  yes,  afraid,  that  you  may 
mistake  my  resignation  for  indifference;  for  if  you  only  knew 
how  deeply  it  hurts  me  whenever  I  detect  that  uneasy  look  in 
your  eye  or  discover  a  fresh  insincerity — and  I  always  do 
discover  them — you  are  not  good  at  deceit,  you  are  too 
jauntily  insolent — ah,  you  have  no  idea  how  you  make  my 
heart  bleed,  or  you  would  never  again  be  so  cruel  as  to  tor- 
ment me !  But  that  is  how  you  are.  If  you  don't  hear  the 
cry,  you  do  not  realize  that  you  have  inflicted  the  wound; 
unless. you  see  my  tears,  you  cannot  believe  that  my  life  is 
unhappy. 

Gonzalo.  [Deeply  affected]  Isabel !  Why,  Isabel ! — Come, 
come !    This  is  no  way  to  dress  for  dinner. 

Isabel.  No,  it  is  foolish  to  complain.  But  I  have  suf- 
fered so  much,  and  now 

Gonzalo.  Now?     What  do  you  mean? 

Isabel.  You  know  what  I  mean.  I  am  not  blind.  I  can 
see  what  you  are  thinking  about. 

Gonzalo.  Business,  my  affairs —    How  ridiculous ! 

Isabel.  No,  you  take  your  business  very  calmly,  but  now 
you  are  irritable;  your  mood  changes  hourly,  not  daily.  I 
love  you  too  much  not  to  know  that  you  are  disappointed 
when  you  seem  happiest,  or  happy  when  you  wish  me  to 
believe  that  you  are  sober  and  dignified. 

Gonzalo.  Pure  imagination !  However,  I  have  no  right 
to  complain.    You  knew  my  life  as  a  bachelor. 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  227 

Isabel.  As  a  married  man. 

Gonzalo.  I  married  very  young. . , . 

Isabel.  As  a  widower. 

Gonzalo.  I  was  a  very  young  widower. 

Isabel.  It  made  no  difference  to  you. 

Gonzalo.  Difference?  But  then  I  married  you.  How 
was  it  then? 

Isabel.  Gonzalo,  let  us  not  pursue  the  matter  further. 
I  made  up  my  mind  long  ago  to  shut  my  eyes,  neither  to 
hear  nor  to  see;  but  I  have  seen  and  heard — everything. 
Why  will  you  raise  questions  when  you  know  inevitably  that 
you  must  lie  out  of  them?  I  detest  nothing  so  much  as  a 
lie. 

Gonzalo.  When  did  I  ever  lie  to  you  ?  Who  told  you  my 
adventures  ? 

Isabel.  You  did;  I  admit  it — but  not  in  confidence.  It 
was  imprudence. 

Gonzalo.  Impnidence  i<f  fl.  species  of  confidence. 
The  Servant  enters. 

Servant.  The  mail  from  the  club,  sir.  [Goes  out. 

Gonzalo.  Circulars,  advertisements. .. .  Hello!  Anote 
from  Aguirre.  He  cannot  dine  with  me  this  evening.  Sup- 
pose I  had  gone  ?    I  should  have  enjoyed  myself. 

Isabel.  You  are  enjoying  yourself. 

Gonzalo.  But  this  ?  What  is  this  ?  Ah,  yes !  I  remem- 
ber.  . . .  Here,  run  through  them  if  you  like.  Look  them 
over.  ...  s 

Isabel.  Thank  you.  I  said  you  were  imprudent,  not  that 
you  were  a  fool.  Of  course,  there  is  nothing  in  those  letters; 
I  am  not  a  fool,  either.  It  is  not  necessary  to  compromise 
oneself  in  a  letter  in  order  to  make  an  appointment  or  to 
cancel  one  in  case  of  need.  All  these  communications  are 
as  innocuous  as  the  tailor's  announcement  of  the  season's 


^28  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

styles,  or  a  circular  letter  from  the  President  of  the  Coun- 
cil, presenting  his  compliments  and  soliciting  your  vote. 
They  are  precisely  as  innocent. 

Gonzalo.  I  must  give  you  credit  for  ingenuity,  which,  on 
the  whole,  is  extremely  flattering.  When  I  feel  older,  men- 
tally and  physically,  every  day,  to  find  that  at  my  age  you 
still  consider  me  fascinating — it  is  delightful ! 

Isabel.  No,  fascinated,  which  is  not  the  same.  Your 
vanity  is  your  undoing,  as  it  is  with  all  men.  So  why  be 
vain?  You  are  spoiled  from  the  cradle.  Parents,  relatives 
and  friends,  down  to  the  last  gossiping  old  crone  who  is  at- 
tached to  the  house,  all  flatter  you:  "What  a  cunning  little 
dear !"  "And  how  manly !"  So  the  poor  boy  is  lured  on.  I 
was  always  sent  out  of  the  room  when  I  was  a  girl,  when  they 
began  to  talk  about  you. 

Gonzalo.  You  hid  behind  the  door  and  listened  to  every 
word. 

Isabel.  I  was  so  inexpressibly  shocked  that  I  hated  all 
men  because  I  thought  they  were  like  you. 

Gonzalo.  All  men  but  me,  apparently.  I  made  love  to 
you  before  we  were  married. 

Isabel.  And  I  boxed  your  ears. 

Gonzalo.  You  did,  and  it  was  tremendous !  I  never  for- 
got you.  And  I  don't  believe  that  you  ever  forgot  me,  either. 
I  was  your  sweetheart  from  that  hour. 

Isabel.  I  was  as  great  a  fool  as  you  say, 

Gonzalo.  It  is  not  easy  to  forget  me. 

Isabel.  Oh,  how  I  wish  you  were  bald  and  gray-haired, 
with  crows'-feet  about  your  eyes,  and  a  paunch  to  make  you 
respectable !  I  pray  God  for  one  every  day — I  give  you  warn- 
ing. But  nothing  happens.  Apparently,  you  are  the  devil's, 
and  at  forty 

Gonzalo.  Come,  come !    Stop  at  forty ! 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  229 

Isabel.  You  are  a  gay  deceiver.  Do  you  know,  I  suspect 
your  hair  and  mustache jJj^ 

Gonzalo.  No,  upon  my  word  of  honor!  A  sKampoo,  a 
shampoo ! 

Isabel.  The  hair-dresser*s  art  has  made  rapid  progress. 
I  wish  you  would  teach  me  the  secret.  If  that  color  were 
natural,  it  would  be  an  insult. 

Gonzalo.  Would  you  really  like  to  see  me  old  ? 

Isabel,  So  old  that  no  woman  would  ever  look  at  you 
again,  so  ugly  that  they  would  all  laugh  when  you  attempted 
to  presume.  Then  at  last  I  could  say:  He  is  mine,  thank 
God,  all  mine ! 

Gonzalo.  But  whose  am  I .?  What  other  woman  has  ever 
been  able  to  call  me  hers,  before  God  and  before  man,  and 
in  my  own  heart  ?    Only  you,  my  Isabel !        \He  kisses  her, 

Isabel.  You  don't  know  how  I  love  you,  nor  how  you  ^ 

make  me  suffer ! 

María  Antonia  and  Pepe  enter, 

Pepe.  Applause!    Bravo!    Bravo! 

Gonzalo.  Hello! 

Isabel.  Why,  Maria  Antonia !  ^   0 

María  Antonia.  Isabel ^vX*    g 

Pepe.  But  we  interrupt.    Go  on,  go  on !  '^VjJ 

Gonzalo.  We  were  setting  you  an  example,  which,  need-  ^ir 
less  to  say,  was  unpremeditated,  as  we  did  not  see  you  com- 
ing. You  surprised  us,  as  it  were,  although  these  little  epi- 
sodes are  not  unusual  with  us,  otherwise  it  would  have  been 
surprising  had  you  happened  on  one  of  them.  My  dears, 
unless  a  man  is  married,  unless  he  has  children,  he  does  not 
know  what  true  love  means,  absolutely  he  does  not.  This 
is  happiness.    There  is  nothing  else  like  it. 

María  Antonla..  Papa  is  in  fine  humor. 


230  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

Isabel.  [Aside  to  María  Antonia]  Yes,  siace  the  mail 
arrived  from  the  club.    Fortunately,  it  was  the  last  one. 

María  Antonia.  Poor  Isabel!  Isn't  it  terrible  to  be  a 
woman  ? 

Isabel.  No  indeed.    How  silly ! 

María  Antonia.  I  am  awfully  anxious  to  see  you  alone. 

Gonzalo.  By  the  way,  Pepe,  we  must  have  a  serious  talk. 

Pepe.  Name  your  own  time. 

Gonzalo.  Oh,  there  is  no  hurry !  That  reminds  me:  what 
was  that  play  you  recommended  the  other  evening?  I 
dropped  in  as  I  was  passing  the  theatre,  but  I  did  not  see 
the  girl.     It  seemed  to  me  rather  tame. 

Pepe.  She  has  been  out  of  the  cast  for  a  few  days.  The 
manager  discharged  her  because  of  some  trouble,  although  1 
must  say  that  I  sympathized  with  the  girl.  Her  parts  were 
impossible.  La  Vélez  has  the  company  completely  under  her 
thumb,  although  she  sings  like  a  cat  and  wears  clothes 

Gonzalo.  She  will  never  make  a  hit  with  her  clothes. 

Pepe.  We  might  compare  notes,  however,  about  the  other 
one.  The  town  has  gone  mad  over  her — it  is  a  hit  every 
time  she  appears.  She  has — how  shall  I  put  It?  Oh,  you 
know — personality;  there  is  something  about  her. . . .  / 

Gonzalo.  I  know.    You  talk  like  the  girl's  mother. 

Pepe.  Was  that  what  you  wanted  to  say  ? 

Gonzalo.  No;  speaking  seriously,  Isabel  thinks. . . .  We 
might  take  it  up  later.  Did  you  say  she  was  still  out  of  the 
cast? 

Pepe.  No,  you  can  see  her  any  night  in  "Impulse"  and 
"A  League  of  the  Garter,"  the  second  and  fourth  zarzuelas. 
Highly  sensational. 

GcNZALo.  I  suppose  you  drop  in  every  night? 

Pepe.  No,  when  I  have  nothing  else  to  do. 

Gonzalo.  But  you  never  do  anytliing  else.    You  are  mak- 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  231 

ing  a  great  mistake.  Women  are  hypersensitive  about  the 
theatre;  it  is  so  public.  I  never  specialized  in  theatres  my- 
self; I  do  not  recommend  them  to  others. 

María  Antonia.  What  is  papa  telling  Pepe  ? 

Isabel.  He  is  calling  him  to  account.  It  was  only  right 
that  he  should  know. 

María  Antonia.  Who  ?  Papa  ?  You  ought  never  to  have 
told  him.    He  will  think  that  I  am  silly. 

Isabel.  You  would  be  silly,  if  you  were  not  right;  and  you 
are  foolish  to  be  unhappy  because  you  are.  The  silliest  thing 
in  the  world  would  be  for  you  to  make  your  husband  unhappy. 

María  Antonia.  I  am  not  making  my  husband  unhappy. 

Isabel.  But  what  is  the  matter?  What  are  you  trying 
to  do  ? 

María  Antonia.  Do  you  suppose  that  I  married  to  be 
humiliated  and  neglected  by  my  husband  ? 

Isabel.  Has  he  done  anything  else.? 

María  Antonia.  Has  he  ?    Only  to-day 

Isabel.  Hush !    They  may  hear  us 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  wait  until  we  are  alone 

Pepe.  I  must  step  out  for  a  moment,  my  dear;  I  hope  to 
return  shortly — that  is,  if  I  can  slip  away. 

Isabel.  Oh!  Don't  you  know  whether  you  can  return 
or  not.?    Aren't  you  going  to  stay  to  dinner? 

María  Antonia.  Of  course  he  is  not. 

Pepe.  I  shall  do  my  best — if  possible 

María  Antonia.  What  is  the  use  of  this  farce  ?  You  know 
perfectly  well  that  you  are  not  coming  back. 

Pepe.  María  Antonia ! 

Gonzalo.  I  think,  perhaps,  you  take  these  matters  too 
seriously.  I  understand  his  position.  In  fact,  I  feared  for  a 
moment  that  I  might  be  prevented  from  dining  with  you 
myself.     Women  have  an  idea  that  men  have  nothing  to  do 


232  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

but  keep  engagements  which  they  make  for  them.  They 
plan  and  settle  it  all  beforehand,  days  ahead;  such  a  night 
we  go  to  the  theatre,  such  an  evening  we  have  guests  to 
dinner.  A  man  cannot  be  expected  to  burden  his  mind 
with  these  petty  details.  You  are  the  very  first  to  find  fault 
with  us  when  we  neglect  our  business  or  our  other  affairs,  yet 
you  expect  us  always  to  be  sitting  at  home,  waiting  on  your 
pleasure.  I  cannot  understand  women;  positively,  I  cannot 
understand  them. 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  women  are  all  unreasonable.  No- 
body understands  them.  He  has  known  perfectly  well  since 
Monday  that  we  were  to  dine  here  this  evening,  yet  he  must 
select  this  very  evening 

Pepe.  Don't  you  want  me  to  go?  Very  well,  then,  I 
won't  go;  I  am  perfectly  agreeable. 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  you  are !  You  are  going  just  the 
same.  I  insist  upon  it.  I  don't  care  to  have  you  sitting 
around  all  evening  if  this  is  what  you  are  going  to  look  like. 

Pepe.  Whether  I  go  or  not,  I  shall  make  it  a  point  to 
provide  a  little  opportunity,  shortly,  for  you  to  look  pleasant. 

María  Antonia.  It  will  take  a  great  deal  to  malie  me  look 
like  you  do  now. 

Pepe.  Whenever  I  turn  around,  it  seems  I  am  responsible. 

Isabel.  You  are  two  children. 

Pepe.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  you  had  prepared  this 
little  scene  before  we  left  home  ? 

María  Antonia.  You  can  stop  it  by  leaving  if  you  don't 
like  it — and  the  sooner  the  better.  If  you  had  let  me  come 
alone,  as  I  wished,  you  would  have  avoided  it  altogether. 

Pepe.  I  didn't  want  Isabel  and  your  father  to  think 

^  ^  María  Antonia.  What  do  you  care  what  they  thmk  ? 
Papa  always  sides  with  you,  and  Isabel  has  too  much  sense 
to  interfere. 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  233 

Gonzalo.  I  am  at  a  loss  to  know  how  you  can  say  tliatX 
I  side  with  him  because  he  is  right;  I  put  myself  in  his  place.   ) 

María  Antonia.  Exactly !    In  his  place.      ^^ 

Gonzalo.  Yes,  in  his  place — why  not.?*  I  am  sure  that 
Pepe  would  remain  to  dinner  unless  some  very  important 
engagement  took  him  away. 

María  Antonia.  No  doubt  it  seems  important  to  him, 
which  is  sufficient.  Why  does  a  broker  have  to  be  present 
at  a  reading  of  a  zarzuela  ? 

Pepe.  I  told  you  the  author  is  a  friend  of  mine  and  it  is 
my  idea,  substantially.  I  know  the  manager.  Great  heaven, 
can't  a  man  go  to  the  theatre .?  I  must  have  some  relaxation 
after  a  long  and  tiring  day.  If  I  had  had  my  way,  I  should 
have  been  an  actor,  and  I  might  have  written  plays,  too,  if  I 
had  had  time,  which  would  not  have  been  worse  than  other 
popular  successes.  I  have  plenty  of  ideas — original  ideas — 
and  I  never  make  a  mistake  as  to  what  will  prove  acceptable. 
One  rehearsal  is  ample  for  me  to  judge.  If  I  were  a  man- 
ager, I  should  make  money,  naturally. 

María  Antonia.  Who  ever  heard  of  such  foolishness  ? 
All  he  thinks  of  is  the  theatre — a  theatre. 

Pepe.  A  theatre,  a  theatre !  Yes,  because  the  manager  is 
a  friend  of  mine. 

Isabel.  Pepe,  I  had  no  idea  that  you  were  so  fond  of  the 
theatre. 

Pepe.  It  is  my  hobby — as  innocent  a  hobby,  I  suppose,  as 
a  man  could  well  have.    Don't  you  agree  with  me? 

Gonzalo.  All  hobbies  are  innocent,  although  I  must  say  I 
had  supposed  that  you  had  some  better  reason  f|j^ot  re- 
maining to  dinner.  ^^ 

María  Antonla..  You  see  that  even  father  deserts  vou.l 
The  reading  must  be  important  if  they  want  to  have  yWi  at  I 
it. 


^34  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

Pepe.  I  shall  return  immediately.  I  will  ask  my  friends 
to  postpone  it  until  another  day,  or  else  go  on  without  me. 
Unless  I  hurry,  I  shall  be  late ....  What  is  the  matter  ? 
Don't  make  a  scene.  God  knows  nothing  could  be  more  un- 
pleasant ! 

Gonzalo.  [Aside  to  Pepe]  Yes,  hurry  as  much  as  you  can, 
you  may  slip  away  later.  We  shall  not  sit  long  at  table,  as  I 
have  an  engagement  myself.    Better  humor  Maria  Antonia. 

Pepe.  I  shall  be  back  directly — directly,  I  promise  you. 

María  Antonia.  Suit  yourself. 

Pepe.  Good-by,  then.  Now  don't  make  up  any  stories 
about  me. 

María  Antonia.  I  shall  not  make  up  any  stories. 

Pepe.  Isabel,  make  it  all  right  with  Maria  Antonia.  You 
know  how  it  is. . . . 

Isabel.  Of  course,  although  if  you  are  not  coming  back,  I 
advise  you  to  say  so. 

Pepe.  No,  I  am  coming — on  my  word  of  honor!  Di- 
rectly !  [Goes  out, 
■^  Gonzalo.  Now  you  can  tell  us  the  truth.  Isabel  says 
that  you  are  unhappy,  that  you  are  dissatisfied  with  your 
husband.  How  is  that?  Have  you  any  ground  for  com- 
plaint ? 

María  Antonia.  No,  none  whatever.  I  was  joking  with 
Isabel.  It  amuses  me  to  see  how  fond  Pepe  has  suddenly  be- 
come of  the  theatre.  Because  his  friend  Castrojeriz,  who  is 
keeping  some  soprano  or  other,  wants  to  exhibit  his  mistress 
in  public  and  ruin  himself  as  a  manager,  is  no  reason  why 
Pepe  d^uld  haunt  the  playhouse  day  and  night.  He  isn't 
the  p^ipter  or  leader  of  the  orchestra.  Now  we  have  a 
steady  stream  of  actors  running  to  the  house  asking  for 
recommendations,  to  say  nothing  of  authors  who  want  a 
good    word    said    for   their  plays.     Only  yesterday,  I   re- 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  235 

ceived  an   applicant    for    the    chorus,  chaperoned   by  her 
mother. . .  . 

Isabel.  How  exciting ! 

María  Antonia.  She  insisted  upon  the  girl's  singing  the 
romanza  from  "The  First  Officer." 

Gonzalo.  If  that  was  all,  it  was  not  so  bad,  though  no 
doubt  it  was  trying.  You  must  remember  that  Pepe  has 
seen  very  little  of  the  world.  His  father  brought  him  up 
very  strictly;  he  was  put  to  work  when  he  was  a  mere  boy. 
Naturally,  he  is  interested  in  these  light  girlish  frolics.  An 
opportunity  has  offered  to  peep  behind  the  scenes  in  a  thea- 
tre— behind  the  scenes,  just  imagine  it!  And  up  to  that 
time  the  boy  bad  seen  practically  nothing.  He  was  de- 
lighted, as  was  to  be  expected.  A  great  many  thoroughly 
respectable  persons  who  have  no  connection  with  the  thea- 
tre professionally,  spend  their  time  about  the  dressing-rooms 
and  behind  the  scenes,  studying  the  performances  and  ob- 
serving what  goes  on  at  rehearsals.  When  we  wish  our  own» 
doctor,  for  example,  we  always  send  to  the  theatre  for  him, 
and  his  diagnoses  have  become  purely  theatric.  If  nothing  is 
the  matter,  he  says:  "Pshaw!  A  performance  will  do  you 
good  to-morrow  evening."  If  it  is  serious,  he  says:  "This 
is  too  bad  !  I  advise  you  to  remain  away  from  the  opening." 
And  our  doctor  is  a  sober  and  dignified  man,  a  gentleman, 
and  a  fine  physician. 

Maria  Antonia.  Do  not  exert  yourself  to  convince  me.  I 
knew,  of  course,  that  you  were  going  to  side  with  Pepe.  jj 

Gonzalo.  My  point  is  that  if  you  wish  to  prevent  himjr^  I 

from  taking  his  relaxation  away  from  home,  and  from  you, .  /1l4T^\ 
sulking  and  complaining  and  making  it  thoroughly  unpleas-  *  ^^ 
ant  is  about  the  worst  system  you  could  adopt  for  the  pur- 
pose. 

Isabel.  Your  father  is  right  about  that. 


%r 


^36  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

Gonzalo.  Are  you  jealous?  Do  you  suspect  that  he  is 
deceiving  you  ? 

María  Antonia.  Suspect  .í^  Not  at  all;  he  is  not  deceiv- 
ing me.  I  made  up  my  mind  before  I  married,  exactly  what 
I  would  do  when  the  time  came — and  I  proved  it. 

Isabel.  It  is  foolish  to  make  up  one's  mind  in  advance  or 
to  map  out  a  course  of  action  in  life.  We  become  wedded  un- 
consciously to  the  attitude  which  we  expect  to  assume,  and 
the  event  often  happens  because  we  expected  it.  Never  de- 
cide anything  in  advance.  Life  takes  us  by  surprise,  and 
determines  the  future  without  our  advice,  and  life  is  always 
wise  and  always  just.  We  may  be  deceived  and  betrayed, 
it  may  even  seem  that  our  lives  have  been  wrecked  com- 
pletely, yet  if  we  can  truly  say  with  a  clear  conscience  that 
it  was  undeserved,  we  are  happier  by  far  than  those  who 
brought  misfortune  upon  us.  The  only  sorrow  for  which 
there  is  no  consolation  is  the  sorrow  we  have  brought  upon 
ourselves. 

Gonzalo.  She  is  perfectly  right.  Remember  what  she 
says.  Gracious !  It  is  time  to  dress.  The  guests  will  think 
that  they  are  attending  a  funeral. 

María  Antonia.  No,  it  was  foolish  of  me  to  complain. 
I  was  very  silly.    I  ought  to  be— and  I  intend  to  be— happy. 

Gonzalo.  I  see  no  reason  why  not.  [Goes  out. 

María  Antonia.  Why  did  you  say  anything  to  papa.? 
I  did  not  wish  him  to  know. 

Isabel.  Am  I  closer  to  you  than  your  own  father.? 

María  Antonia.  Certainly.  You  understand  how  I  feel. 
A  man's  point  of  view  is  entirely  different.  A  love-affair 
means  so  little  in  their  lives,  and  they  put  so  little  heart  in 
it,  that  they  imagine  that  it  means  even  less  to  us.  But  they 
are  mistaken.  I  can  understand  how  a  great  love,  an  irre- 
sistible passion,  might  sweep  everything  before  it,  until  the 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  237 

pain,  the  anxiety,  and  the  humiliation  of  the  woman  might 
count  as  nothing  and  be  forgotten — for  this  a  man  might 
have  some  excuse;  but  when  he  does  not  hesitate  to  give  a 
woman  pain  merely  to  gratify  a  passing  caprice,  that  is  in- 
excusable; it  shows  exactly  what  men  think  of  us. 

Isabel.  Has  Pepe?. . . . 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  he  has;  and  his  unfaithfulness  is 
more  cowardly  because  it  began  at  a  time  when  of  all  others 
I  was  most  deserving  of  his  respect,  if  not  as  his  wife,  as  the 
mother  of  his  child.  Who  knows  but  that  the  horrible  morti- 
fication of  his  cowardly,  cruel  behavior,  may  not  have  been 
the  cause  of  our  terrible  sorrow  ?  And  all  for  a  low,  vulgar 
woman,  who  is  the  attraction  which  he  finds  in  the  theatre ! 

Isabel.  Oh !    So  she  is  the  one  ? 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  and  he  thinks  I  suspect  nothing. 
His  friend,  Castrojeriz,  wheedles  his  money  out  of  him  to 
pay  the  expenses  of  his  theatre.  We  shall  be  ruined  and 
become  public  laughing-stocks  at  one  and  the  same  time, 
which  I  can  never  submit  to,  I  promise  you.  I  have  not 
your  patient  disposition. 

Isabel.  My  patient  disposition  ? 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  poor  Isabel !  You  are  like  my  own 
dear  mother,  as  good  and  as  patient  as  she.  Life  has  had 
no  secrets  for  me  since  I  was  a  child.  I  was  brought  up 
alone  with  my  father,  or  rather  without  him,  for  I  seldom 
saw  him  at  all.  Nurses  and  servants  did  not  hesitate  to  gos- 
sip when  I  was  present,  nor  spare  me  the  details  of  what  they 
had  heard.  Aunt  Rosario  was  the  only  person  who  really 
cared  for  me,  and  her  affection  consisted  chiefly  of  an  im- 
placable hatred  of  my  father.  She  was  my  mother's  sister, 
so  she  could  never  forgive  him.  Her  undying  hate  took  no 
thought  of  my  innocence,  she  never  considered  the  harm 
which  she  did  me  by  destroying  my  respect  for  my  father, 


238  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

and  the  faith  which  I  had  in  his  love.  She  even  carried  her 
resentment  beyond  the  grave,  and  when  she  died  she  put 
into  my  hands  my  mother's  letters,  which  she  made  me  prom- 
ise never  to  open  until  I  had  married  myself. 

Isabel.  What  was  in  those  letters  ? 

María  Antonia.  They  were  terrible  beyond  words.  My 
mother's  life  was  torment  and  hell.  When  you  see  them, 
you  will  understand  why  I  cannot  confide  in  my  father.  So 
I  open  my  heart  to  you,  and  cry  my  eyes  out  in  bitterness 
when  I  realize  that  I  have  thrown  myself  away  upon  a  con- 
temptible cur,  who,  like  all  men,  is  a  deceiver. 

Isabel.  Not  like  all  men. 

María  Antonia.  Then  let  me  believe  that  all  men  are  like 
him,  because  I  should  be  even  more  unhappy  than  I  am  if  I 
thought  that  there  was  one  who  was  not. 

Isabel.  Why  ?    Are  you  keeping  something  back  ? 

Are  you  trying  to  deceive  me  ?  This  bitterness  seems  more 
like  rebellion  than  regret,  and  I  am  frightened  by  it.  I 
know  that  you  loved  another  man  before  you  did  Pepe,  you 
loved  him  with  your  whole  soul ....  It  may  be,  as  you  say, 
that  life  has  never  had  any  secrets  from  you  since  you  were 
a  child,  yet  perhaps  you  have  never  understood  why  you 
were  obliged  to  give  him  up,  perhaps  you  have  never  been 
able  to  forget. . . . 

María  Antonia.  No,  I  understood.  How  could  4  help 
but  understand  ?  I  accepted  your  reasons  without  question. 
It  was  not  necessary  for  Enrique  to  go  away  in  order  to  in- 
duce me  to  forget  him. 
y-  Isabel.  If  that  is  true,  you  are  in  love  with  another  man  ! 
J  He  pursues,  he  torments  you— and  you  struggle  to  defend 
yourself.  Who  is  he?  No,  you  need  not  tell  me— I  know 
who  he  is.  His  name  has  been  too  frequently  upon  your  lips 
for  me  not  to  guess  where  the  danger  lies.  But  you  cannot 
believe  in  his  love !     You  could  not  be  so  false  to  yourself, 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  239 

although  in  the  bitterness  of  disillusionment  you  may  feel 
that  revenge  is  the  only  relief.  You  will  not  do  it,  because 
you  believe  in  your  mother  and  you  believe  in  me.  You 
have  faith  in  us  both — she  is  in  heaven,  and  I  am  still  here  at 
your  side.  If  you  have  read  your  mother's  letters,  you 
understand  what  my  life  is;  we  have  both  borne  the  same 
sorrows.  Yours  cannot  be  greater,  so  do  not  let  your  resig- 
nation be  less Dry  your  eyes;  here  comes  Laura.    She 

will  see  that  we  have  been  crying. 
Laura  enters. 

Laura.  My  dear  Isabel !    Maria  Antonia. . . . 

Isabel.  How  effective !    Your  new  gown  is  most  striking. 

Laura.  Do  you  really  like  it.?*  The  taste  of  my  maid. 
I  have  not  had  a  moment  to  look  in  the  glass.  This  has  been 
a  terrible  day  for  me — seven  hours  spent  in  a  coach,  which 
I  paid  for  myself,  all  for  the  love  of  my  fellow  man. 

Isabel.  Are  you  still  so  active  in  benevolent  work  ?  You 
belong  to  all  the  charitable  societies. 

Laura.  I  am  vice-president  of  two,  secretary  of  three,  and 
treasurer  of  four,  which  goes  without  saying.  The  most  diffi- 
cult assignments  invariably  fall  to  me.     "As  you  have  no 

family,  Laura,  no  children  to  take  care  of" "As  you 

have  nothing  to  occupy  your  time". . . .  They  forget  that  I 
have  children  on  all  sides  of  me,  while  the  whole  world  is  my 
family,  and  I  feel  responsible  for  them  all.  I  console  myself 
as  best  I  may  for  the  misfortune — or  the  crime — of  remain- 
ing single. 

Isabel.  Gracious!  In  your  case  it  has  been  neither  a 
misfortune  nor  a  crime.  One  home  and  one  family  were  not 
enough  for  you;  you  have  embraced  a  wider  field. 

Laura.  A  vulgar  misapprehension.  I  keep  house  myself; 
I  am  a  model  housekeeper.  I  need  scarcely  remind  you  of 
the  demands  society  makes  upon  my  time. 

Isabel.  No,  you  go  everywhere;  I  admire  you  for  it. 


240  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

Laura.  I  am  not  narrow-minded  like 


María  Antonia.  Like  us,  you  were  going  to  say  ? 

Laura.  No,  like  most  women.  From  the  woman's  point 
of  view,  home  and  family  are  of  first  importance,  as  is  proper; 
on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  well  to  be  excessively  domestic. 
If  I  had  married,  I  should  have  urged  my  husband  on  to 
glorious  exploits,  instead  of  intimidating  and  holding  him 
back,  as  do  most  women,  including  yourselves. 

María  Antonia.  Including  us  ? 

Laura.  Yes,  including  you.  A  man  of  your  father's  ability 
and  social  position  ought  to  amount  to  something;  he  should 
have  had  his  fill  by  this  time  of  being  cabinet  minister,  or 
whatever  it  is  that  he  would  like  most  to  be.  Do  you  know 
what  has  always  been  lacking  in  your  father's  life  ?  A  woman. 

María  Antonia.  We  had  had  a  different  idea. 

Laura.  A  woman  who  should  be  as  unwomanly  as  possi- 
ble. Exceptional  men  cannot  be  loved  like  ordinary  men. 
Love  watches  beside  genius  as  beside  a  sick  bed,  in  silence 
and  at  a  respectful  distance,  waiting  until  the  patient  calls, 
and  is  satisfied.  To  pester  such  a  man  with  attentions  or 
domestic  trivialities  is  a  crime,  if  you  will  pardon  the  sugges- 
tion. When  I  came  in,  I  scented  at  once  domestic  discord  in 
the  air.     You  have  both  been  crying. 

María  Antonia.  No,  indeed — although  memory  brings 
tears  to  our  eyes;  we  have  no  differences. 

Laura.  You  need  not  tell  me.  Was  it  serious?  Has  he 
had  a  letter.?  Or  did  your  husband  go  out  and  neglect  to 
tell  you  where  he  was  going  ?  Perhaps  he  stayed  out  too 
long.    You  have  been  quarrelling  with  your  husband 

María  Antonia.  In  any  event,  my  conscience  will  never 
reproach  me  with  ruining  a  genius,  however  much  I  may 
quarrel  with  my  husband. 

Laura.  I  was  not  thinking  of  your  husband.     Pepe  is  a 


ACT!  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  241 

nice  boy,  apt  to  learn;  but  that  is  all.  Your  father  is  an  in- 
telligent man;  he  has  knowledge  of  the  world,  he  has  ad- 
dress. .  . . 

Isabel.  We  realize  it  fully.  All  he  lacks  is  inspiration, 
which  I  have  been  unable  to  supply. 

Laura.  However,  do  not  distress  yourself.  He  has  just 
been  offered  the  direction  of  the  new  company  in  Paris,  which, 
in  fact,  was  his  idea.  It  will  control  the  world  very  shortly, 
because  of  the  nature  of  its  business,  dominating  the  banks 
and  consequently  the  politics  and  destinies  of  Europe;  yet, 
instead  of  encouraging  him  to  accept,  you  are  in  a  panic  for 
fear  that,  possibly,  you  may  be  obliged^to  move,  to  leave  Spain. 

Isabel.  Maria  Antonia  and  I  are  not  ambitious.  We  are 
suiBciently  well-to-do  to  be  able  to  afford  the  luxury  of 
remaining  here  at  home  among  our  friends,  and  the  associa- 
tions which  have  always  been  ours.  Gonzalo  has  accepted 
the  chairmanship  for  Madrid,  and  is  entirely  satisfied. 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  why  go  to  Paris  ?  Do  you  wish  us 
to  separate  .i^ 

Laura.  Oh,  go  along.  Your  father  might  find  Pepe  em- 
ployment in  some  confidential  capacity. 

María  Antonia.  My  husband  in  Paris  ?  No,  thank  you. 
His  theatrical  tastes  have  already  been  cultivated. 

Laura.  Theatrical  tastes  .f^    You  surprise  me. 

Isabel.  Maria  Antonia  is  very  silly. 

Laura.  How  absurd !  I  suppose  you  are  jealous  because 
your  husband  has  attended  the  theatre  once  or  twice,  and  one 
of  your  friends  has  had  the  bad  taste  to  mention  it.  Ridicu- 
lous! 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  I  am  ridiculous,  I  am  jealous,  and 
I  am  a  woman !  I  should  like  to  have  my  husband  stay  at 
home  alone  by  me,  and  be  satisfied.  I  have  not  the  skill  to 
make  a  Napoleon  out  of  my  husband,  or  a  Bismarck,  or  any 


242  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

other  genius  now  in  fashion.  When  he  goes  out  and  stays 
later  than  he  should,  it  is  no  consolation  to  me  to  think  that 
he  may  be  conquering  new  worlds  or  conducting  experiments 
in  navigation. 

Carmen,  Luisa  and  Ramón  enter. 

Isabel.  Carmen  and  her  husband  with  Luisa. . . .  Good 
evening,  my  dear !    Luisita 

Carmen.  Do  not  tell  us  that  we  are  late.  Ramón  insists 
we  are  to  blame. 

Ramón.  Obviously.  A  woman's  toilette  is  inexhaustible; 
it  takes  three  hours  for  them  to  dress — to  no  purpose.  Now 
they  are  trying  to  persuade  me  to  subscribe  for  seats  at  the 
theatre.  But  what  is  the  use.^^  If  I  wish  to  see  a  play  or 
hear  an  opera,  I  must  leave  them  at  home.  We  are  lucky 
to  arrive  in  time  for  the  second  act  if  they  go.  Isn't  it  foolish 
to  spend  a  fortune  not  being  on  time  ? 

María  Antonia.  Luisita,  you  are  adorable  this  evening, 

Luisa.  Naturally — you  heard  papa;  I  have  been  three 
hours  dressing.    How  he  does  love  to  exaggerate ! 

Ramón.  Where  is  Gonzalo  ? 

Isabel.  He  is  almost  ready.  What  do  you  hear  from 
Enrique  ? 

Ramón.  Nothing;  he  never  writes.  I  cannot  understand 
what  is  the  matter  with  that  boy. 

Carmen.  [Aside  to  Isabel]  I  am  dreadfully  worried;  I  must 
tell  you  about  it  later,  Isabel.  I  don't  want  to  disturb 
Ramón.     You  know  what  he  is. 

Laura.  Were  you  on  the  Exchange  this  afternoon  7 

Ramón.  Yes,  but  there  were  no  developments.  It  was  un- 
usually quiet. 

Laura.  I  must  consult  you  about  a  plan  which  I  am 
taking  under  consideration.    It  may  be  foolish 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  243 

Ramón.  No,  Laura,  you  are  a  competent  judge;  you  are 
unquestionably  capable  of  taking  care  of  yourself. 

Laura.  Yes,  I  have  acquired  the  habit,  thanks  to  your 
advice  and  friendly  assistance. 

Carmen.  Your  talent  for  business  has  always  been  aston- 
ishing.   The  mere  idea  of  business  is  appalling  to  me.    If  I 
were  a  widow,  I  am  sure  I  should  not  have  courage  to  make 
'any  advances,  or  to  speculate  upon  the  Exchange. 
<^---Xaura.  I  should  have  fared  poorly  had  I  shared  your  re- 

kictance.     What  I  had  from  my  father  was  modesty  itself, 

which  would  have  disappeared  long  ago  had  I  displayed  no 
taste  for  affairs.  Fortunately,  I  trusted  my  principal  to  Gon- 
zalo and  he  has  doubled  my  income  with  incredible  rapidity, 

Ramón.  We  hope  to  surprise  you  shortly  now  that  the  new 
company  has  been  organized.  The  scope  of  the  business  has 
been  broadened,  and  at  the  same  time  the  foundations  have 
been  made  more  secure.  We  shall  no  longer  be  dealing  in 
castles  in  the  air. 

Laura.  So  I  trust,  as  does  everybody.  I  am  enchanted 
with  the  prospect;  it  is  entrancing.  [To  Isabel  and  Carmen] 
I  am  amazed  that  you  do  not  take  any  interest  in  business. 

Ramón.  Yes,  discuss  business  with  a  woman!  My  wife 
has  preserved  some  notion  of  economy  in  the  management 
of  the  house,  as  she  knows  what  it  means  to  begin,  but 
Luisita,  who  was  bom  in  days  of  plenty,  seems  to  believe 
that  the  sky  rains  down  money.  If  she  had  her  way,  we 
should  be  ruined  in  less  than  two  months. 

Luisa.  Do  you  wonder  that  I  am  not  engaged?  The  young 
men  listen  to  papa,  and  then  decline  absolutely  to  make  ad- 
vances. 

Ramón.  Engaged  ?  Engaged  ?  Show  me  the  young  man 
who  has  the  hardihood  to  venture  with  one  of  these  girls. 
Naturally,  a  young  man's  position  is  none  too  brilliant;  he 


244  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

is  struggling  to  establish  himself  in  his  profession,  or  in  busi- 
ness, and  as  yet  he  has  not  had  time  to  inherit.  Encumber 
yourself  under  these  circumstances  with  a  young  lady  who 
is  accustomed  to  shine,  and  to  spend  money  without  any  idea 
of  what  it  costs  to  make  it !  A  few  years  ago  marriage  meant 
a  girl's  first  gown  from  the  dressmaker,  her  first  lingerie  that 
was  not  the  plainest  of  the  plain;  it  meant  her  first  jewelry 
that  was  of  value  and  her  introduction  to  society  as  well, 
and  this  was  true  even  if  she  belonged  to  the  uppermost 
classes;  but  now  this  is  all  changed.  Marriage  is  a  step  down 
for  a  girl,  it  is  to  restrict  herself,  to  have  a  poorer  house,  a 
worse  table,  inferior  service;  it  is  to  ride  in  a  hack  or  a  trolley- 
car,  instead  of  her  own  carriage;  it  is  to  remodel  a  dress  ten 
times  and  a  hat  fourteen;  it  is  to  listen  to  her  husband  preach 
that  she  is  spending  too  much  money,  that  it  is  impossible  to 
continue  like  this,  and  these  things  sound  very  differently 
from  a  husband  than  they  do  from  a  father.  If  there  should 
be  children,  wives  nowadays  can  only  bring  them  up  upon 
money.  What  with  nurses  and  governesses  and  doctors  at 
every  turn,  the  infant  does  not  have  an  opportunity  to  sneeze. 
A  fortune  is  squandered  upon  laces  and  batistes,  so  as  to 
accustom  him  to  the  refinements  from  the  cradle,  and  I  don't 
know  what  else  besides — yes,  a  French  priest  to  teach  him 
to  pray,  because  mothers  cannot  even  do  that  nowadays. 
Show  me  the  young  man  who  is  willing  to  marry  upon  a 
salary  such  as  we  pay  men  in  Spain,  and  an  income  which  we 
are  pleased  to  call  modest. 

Luisa.  Father  seems  to  think  that  money  is  the  supreme 
end  of  existence. 

Laura.  And  he  is  perfectly  right.  Money  cannot  make 
us  happy,  but  it  is  the  only  compensation  that  we  have  for 
not  being  so. 

Gonzalo  enters. 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  245 

^~-N^  Gonzalo.  My  dear  Laura,  I  am  delighted How  are 

^^u,  Carmen?    And  Luisita Hello,  Ramón.    Anything 

new?    Are  we  making  progress? 

Ramón.  Excellent. 

Laura.  I  am  angry  with  you,  because  you  have  proved 
yourself  an  ingrate. 

Gonzalo.  Ah,  doubtless  because  I  neglected  to  answer 
your  last  letter!  You  must  not  sell  at  the  present  figure 
under  any  circumstances.  I  should  have  placed  myself  at 
your  disposition  at  once  should  you  have  done  so. 

Laura.  Remember,  I  have  blind  faith  in  you. 

Gonzalo.  I  fear  that  you  are  unduly  confiding;  I  am  not 
infallible. 

Laura.  I  should  gladly  face  ruin,  following  you. 

Gonzalo.  I  should  not  feel  any  less  guilty,  even  though 
you  were  following  me. 

Luisa.  [Aside  to  María  Antonia]  Laura  is  mad  over  your 
father,  but  at  least  her  attitude  is  perfectly  open.  How 
does  Isabel  tolerate  it? 

María  Antonia.  Oh,  she  is  harmless !  It  is  a  platonic 
attachment,  upon  the  Exchange.  Laura  breathes  fire  and 
passion  into  such  prosaic  questions  as:  "How  is  the  foreign 
loan  ?  "  "  Was  it  strong  at  the  close  ?  "  **  Quote  me  prices  on 
redemption  bonds.'*  Fancy  Romeo  and  Juliet  discussing 
quotations  upon  the  Bourse  at  the  window,  instead  of  de- 
bating whether  it  is  the  lark  or  nightingale  which  sings ! 

Luisa.  What  difference  does  it  make?     It  would  be  a     ^ 
love  scene  just  the  same.     No  words  are  too  prosaic  to  ex-     / 
press  what  love  means.  *"" 

Josefina  and  Adolphe  enter, 

María  Antonia.  [To  Luisa]  The  young  couple  from  Paris 
— on  private  view. 


246  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

Adolphe.  Ladies  and  gentiemen [To  Isabel]  Ah, 

madamel 

Isabel.  How  do  you  do,  Josefina? 

Gonzalo.  Allow  me  to  present  our  friends.  Ramón,  this 
is  Adolphe  Barona,  our  correspondent's  son. 

Ramón.  Yes,  yes  indeed.  His  father  is  a  great  friend  of 
mine.     Great  man,  Barona ! 

Gonzalo.  His  wife. — ^Introduce  your  wife  and  daughter. 

Ramón.  My  wife,  my  daughter.  Although  we  have  not 
had  the  pleasure  before,  we  may  consider  ourselves  old 
friends.  Your  father  is  like  a  brother  to  Gonzalo  and  my- 
self.   We  entered  business  together  when  we  were  boys. 

Adolphe.  I  believe  you  did.  Papa  talks  about  you  in- 
cessantly. Apparently  you  had  rare  sport  in  your  day;  you 
were  up  to — what  is  it.'' — tricks. 

Ramón.  Tricks.^ 

Adolphe.  Yes,  de hetises,    I  mean  you  made  damn 

fools  of  yourselves. 

Ramón.  You  don't  say  so. 

Gonzalo.  Although  he  speaks  Spanish  perfectly,  without 
trace  of  foreign  accent,  as  he  has  lived  in  Paris  all  his  life 
he  is  unfamiliar  at  times  with  the  precise  meaning  of  words. 

Adolphe.  I  always  speak  Spanish  at  home  with  papa; 
but  the  habit  of  thinking  in  French  makes  me  commit — 
how  shall  I  say?  I  cannot  help  it — une  gdffe^  Josefina,  une 
gaffe 

Josefina.  You  break  badly.    Is  that  what  you  say? 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  that  is  what  you  say.  [Aside  to 
Luisa]  Say  and  do. 

Gonzalo.  Josefina  speaks  charmingly,  like  an  unadulter- 
ated Madrileña. 

Josefina.  Oh,  please  don't  accuse  me  of  anything  quite 
so  shocking,  or  your  expectations  may  be  forfeited. 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  247 

María  Antonia.  Evidently  Spanish  has  no  secrets  for  her. 

Gonzalo.  She  is  pure  joy.  Are  you  becoming  more  recon- 
ciled to  Madrid.'^ 

Ramón.  Don't  you  like  it  here? 

Josefina.  Yes,  it  seems  rather  pleasant.  We  have  made 
our  formal  calls  and  found  everybody  poUte  and  agreeable. 

Adolphe.  Ah,  very !  But  what  wretched  houses !  There 
is  an  utter  lack  of  comfort,  of  taste—although  yours  is  an 
exception. 

Isabel.  You  must  not  say  that. 

Adolphe.  Ah,  yes,  indeed !  It  displays  taste,  a  delicate, 
feminine  touch,  which  is  artistic,  harmonious.  Where  was 
it  that  we  saw  a  salon  empire  with  paintings  Louis  quinze  ? 

Horrible!     They  were how  do  you  say,  Josefina?    Vn 

melange  f 

Josefina.  Upside  down.    Am  I  right? 

María  Antonia.  You  are.  {Aside  to  Luisa]  With  whom 
has  this  girl  been  talking  Spanish  in  Paris  ? 

Adolphe.  Such  bad  taste  quite  takes  my  nerve  away.  I 
find  the  toilettes  of  the  ladies  a  trifle  criardes, 

María  Antonia.  Crude  and  loud. 

Adolphe.  Exactly — howling.  What  lady  was  it  who  re- 
ceived us  in  a  blue  tea-gown  and  a  burst  of  gigantic  yellow 
bows  ?    I  yearned  to  rip  it  off  her. 

Josefina.  Adolphe's  temperament  is  so  artistic. 

Adolphe.  Life  would  be  sad  without  art.  The  toilette  is 
half  the  woman.  Surprising  a  rare  toilette  may  in  itself  be 
a  poem. 

Luisa.  [Aside  to  María  Antonia]  Which  is  the  madanw 
in  this  Parisian  couple? 

Ramón.  [Aside  to  Gonzalo]  Is  this  the  boy  you  wish  to 
put  at  the  head  of  our  Madrid  office? 

Gonzalo.  I  see  no  reason  why  not.    He  is  highly  in  tell  i- 


248  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

gent,  as  you  will  soon  be  convinced.  He  talks  like  this  to 
please  the  ladies. 

Ramón.  In  that  case  he  is  more  of  a  fool  than  I  thought. 
He  shows  absolutely  no  knowledge  of  women. 

Gonzalo.  How  should  he? — after  having  been  in  busi- 
ness all  his  life  under  the  eye  of  his  father.  The  position  re- 
quires no  intelligence. 

Ramón.  It  is  one  of  great  responsibility.  When  we  al- 
ready have  Jiménez 

Gonzalo.  Jiménez  is  satisfied  with  the  post  which  he 
occupies.  How  can  we  refuse  Barona  what  he  asks  for  his 
son? 

Ramón.  Asks  for  him?  He  asks  nothing.  He  wrote  me 
that  his  son  was  coming  to  Madrid  on  a  pleasure-trip,  on 
his  honeymoon. 

Gonzalo.  Well,  the  boy  told  me  that  his  father's  purpose 
in  sending  him  was  to  obtain  this  position.  It  seems  that  he 
had  contracted  relations  in  Paris  before  his  marriage  with  a 
woman  of  certain  character,  and  it  is  not  wise  at  present  for 
him  to  reside  there.    His  wife  insists  upon  a  change. 

Ramón.  Is  that  so  ?  His  wife — and  yours,  I  suppose  ?  I 
understand  perfectly.  The  moment  that  she  entered  I  saw 
that  you  were  interested. 

Gonzalo.  Absurd !    I  have  no  idea  what  you  mean.    Do 

you  suppose  that  I  would  dare With  a  girl  who  has  just 

been  married  ?    The  wife  of  a  son  of  my  friend  ? 

Ramón.  Yes,  yes,  that  makes  a  great  difference  to  you. 

Gonzalo.  Eh? 

Ramón.  I  believe  my  wife  is  the  only  woman  you  have 
ever  respected,  and  that  is  not  because  I  trust  you;  I  trust 
her. 

Gonzalo.  Don't  be  a  fool.    To-morrow  we  shall  present 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  249 

his  name  at  the  meeting  of  the  Junta  together.  A  word  will 
suffice. 

Laura.  [To  Adolphe]  What  is  the  opinion  of  Panama 
shares  in  France  ?  I  bought  a  number  at  a  most  flattering 
figure.      Everybody  agrees  that  I  am  long  now  on  futures. 

Adolphe.  They  are  a  dormant  security — but  with  the 
water  let  in  it,  Panama  will  be  a  second  Suez.  [Noticing 
Laura's  earrings]  May  I  examine  those  pearls?  They  are 
exquisite.  I  have  seen  few  of  such  clear  lustre,  and  I  am 
familiar  with  pearls.  Par  excellence»  the  pearl  is  the  feminine 
jewel. 

Laura.  I  inherited  these  from  my  Aunt  Leonor,  who 
left  me  the  few  jewels  I  possess.  I  regard  it  as  wasteful  to 
lock  up  money  in  jewels,  where  it  is  no  longer  liquid.  They 
cost  a  fortune  to  buy,  but  when  one  comes  to  sell... . . 

Josefina.  I  see  that  your  disposition,  like  mine,  is  severely 
practical.  My  husband  is  quite  the  opposite.  He  has  the 
soul  of  an  artist;  he  spends  all  his  money  on  things  which 
are  useless. 

María  Antonia.  Yet  he  has  devoted  his  life  to  business, 
among  men  of  affairs. 

Adolphe.  That  is  the  reason  I  detest  them  so  thoroughly. 
Ah !     What  is  life  without  poetry,  without  an  ideal  ? 

Josefina.  We  exchanged  roles,  as  you  see,  when  we  married. 

María  Antonia.  [To  Luisa]  We  were  confused  for  a 
moment  ourselves. 

Josefina.  Life  slips  by  Adolphe  like  a  beautiful  dream. 

Gonzalo.  He  is  making  a  tremendous  mistake. 

Josefina.  Do  you  think  so  ? 

Gonzalo.  If  he  dreams,  he  must  be  asleep — not  a  proper 
attitude  in  a  young  husband. 

Josefina.  Shocking !  But  meii  are  never  serious  in  Spain. 
Do  you  know,  I  am  beginning  to  have  my  doubts  about  you  ? 


250  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

Gonzalo.  About  me  ? 

Josefina.  Yes,  I  distrust  your  word.  Have  you  urged 
Adolphe's  appointment  upon  the  directors,  as  you  promised  ? 

Gonzalo.  We  were  discussing  it  now.     You  may  consider 
it  assured. 
t       Josefina.  Time  will  tell.    I  should  be  sorry  to  quarrel,  but 
if  you  plan  to  take  advantage  of  me 

Gonzalo.  Ha,  ha ! 

Josefina.  Are  you  laughing?  I  warn  you:  you  will  be 
obliged  to  win  your  spurs  in  advance. . . . 

Gonzalo.  I  was  laughing  at  the  turn  of  your  speech. 

Josefina.  Was  it  improper  .^^ 

Gonzalo.  It  was  inviting. 

Josefina.  But  it  is  not  safe  to  laugh  at  me.  I  find  you 
are  a  deceiver  who  perverts  the  moral  sense. 

Gonzalo.  Adorable!  You  are  adorable!  What  more 
could  be  wished  "i 

Mabía  Antonia.  Oh,  how  shamelessly  brazen !  She  flirts 
with  papa  just  as  if  this  were  a  country  which  permitted 
divorce.  And  I  must  say  her  husband  takes  it  calmly.  Ap- 
parently he  is  explaining  to  Laura  and  Luisa  the  hang  of  a 
skirt ....     How  revolting ! 

Ramón.  Isabel,  I  wish  you  would  speak  to  your  husband. 
He  insists  upon  appointing  this  boy  to  a  position  of  grave 
responsibility.  I  suppose  he  told  you  that  he  was  recom- 
mended by  his  father?  His  father  knows  well  enough  by 
this  time  that  the  boy  is  a  fool.  He  married  him  in  a  hurry 
to  this  girl,  whose  family  and  antecedents  will  not  bear  in- 
spection, and  packed  him  off  to  Madrid  to  settle  down,  but 
not  in  a  position  of  such  importance.  Use  yoiu*  influence 
with  Gonzalo. 

Isabel.  I?  Carmen  knows  me  better.  I  should  not 
dream  of  advising  him,  much  less  of  opposing  his  wishes. 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  g51 

He  might  be  never  so  sincerely  affectionate,  yet  I  should  not 
believe  one  word  that  he  said.  To  effect  more  than  promises 
of  reform,  to  be  forgotten  with  the  week,  I  should  be  obliged 
to  do  more  than  talk. 

Ramón.  Yes,  but  what  do  you  do,  Isabel  ? 

Isabel.  I?    Resign  myself — ^and  wait. 

Ramón.  Poor  Isabel ! 

A  Servant  enters,  — : 

Servant.  A  letter  for  the  señorita. 

[Offering  it  to  María  Antonia. 

María  Antonia.  If  there  is  an  answer. ... 

Servant.  The  messenger  did  not  wait. 

María  Antonia.  Very  well.  [The  Servant  retires]  From 
Pepe.  There  is  no  need  to  read  it;  he  is  not  coming,  of  course 
....     I  knew  it,  I  expected  it. 

Isabel.  No,  read  it 

María  Antonia.  What  is  the  use  ?  You  read  it.  Does 
he  excuse  himself? 

Isabel.  Substantially.  His  friends  refuse  to  let  him 
come.    The  reading  is  important. .  . . 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  yes,  no  doubt.  Pass  the  letter 
around. 

Luisa.  Isn't  your  husband  coming  ? 

María  Antonia.  Here,  take  it  and  read  it  to  your  fiance 
when  you  have  one.  It  will  serve  him  as  a  model  after  you 
are  married.    All  men  are  alike. 

Luisa.  No,  that  is  not  true;  I  don't  believe  it.  If  you  had 
only  married  Enrique 

María  Antonia.  Hush !  Don't  talk  to  me  about  En- 
rique, if  you  love  me.    Please !    It  hurts. 

Luisa.  My  poor  brother  is  so  sad  when  he  writes. 

María  Antonia.  Sad  ?  Yes,  we  are  all  sad.  God  for- 
give those  wretched  creatures  who,  for  a  moment's  pleasure. 


252-  •     AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

a  caprice,  for  gratification  of  the  sort  in  which  my  husband 
is  now  engaged,  are  willing  to  wreck  the  happiness  of  their 
dear  ones  for  all  the  rest  of  their  lives ! 

Luisa.  I  have  not  the  faintest  idea  what  you  are  talking 
about. 

María  Antonia.  Oh,  nothing !     I  am  not  talking. 
Manuel  enters. 
.    Manuel.  Good    evening.     Am    I   punctual?     Ah,    Isa- 
bel, you  don't  say  so. . . . 

Isabel.  For  once  you  are,  and  I  appreciate  it.  We  have 
guests  this  evening. 

Manuel.  So  I  see.    Present  me. 

Isabel.  Don  Manuel  Arenales,  M.  Adolphe  Barona .... 
His  wife. 

Manuel.  A  great  pleasure,  a  very  great  pleasure ! 

Gonzalo.  At  last  you  have  met  an  unadulterated  Ma- 
drileño.    He  is  just  up  and  beginning  the  day. 

Manuel.  Have  you  any  objection.^  Time  is  purely  ar- 
bitrary. There  is  no  reason  why  the  day  should  begin  with 
the  sun.  I  am  more  gallant;  I  concede  the  privilege  to  the 
moon.    I  render  homage  to  the  eternally  feminine. 

Laura.  I  have  often  been  astonished  to  see  you  up  early 
in  the  morning  as  I  hurried  to  a  lecture  or  a  charitable 
affair. 

Manuel.  Were  you  making  your  rounds  so  early  ?  Well, 
I  was  returning  from  mine.  One  may  easily  judge  who  had 
the  better  start  of  the  day. 

Laura.  Silence !  I  despise  you.  You  are  a  reproach  to 
the  state  of  bachelorhood.    Of  what  use  are  you  in  the  world .? 

Manuel.  A  question,  perhaps,  that  others  might  ask.  To 
permit  you  to  send  me  tickets  every  Monday  and  Tuesday 
for  your  benefits,  and  subscription-blanks  for  every  manner 
of  good  works,  to  all  of  which  I  contribute  most  gladly,  my 


ACT  I  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  253 

dear  Laura,  and  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  this  is  no 
joke. 
., "   Laura.  True.    Through  this  tiny  door,  perhaps,  we  may 
succeed  in  saving  your  soul,  and  you  find  indulgence  for  your 
multitudinous  sins. 

Manuel.  So  Pepe  is  not  dining  with  us  this  evening  ? 

María  Antonia.  Why  ?    Did  you  see  him  ? 

Manuel.  Yes,  a  moment  ago 

María  Antonia.  Where  ? 

Manuel.  In  the  Calle  de  Alcalá. 

María  Antonia.  Oh  !    With  some  friends  ? 

Manuel.  No,  he  was  alone. 

María  Antonia.  Alone?    Why,  his  note  said. . . . 

Manuel.  What  did  his  note  say  ? 

María  Antonia.  Nothing. — ^Alone !  Did  you  hear  that  ? 
He  was  alone ! 

Gonzalo.  Be  careful!  Never  see  a  married  man  any- 
where unless  his  wife  is  along. 

Manuel.  Careful.?  Because  I  said  I  met  him  alone  on 
the  street  ?  Did  you  expect  me  to  tell  her  that  I  saw  him 
running  up-stairs  at  the  Restaurant  Fornos  with  a  party  of 
friends — his  friends,  your  friends,  and  mine  ? 

Gonzalo.  Not  mine,  no !    Do  me  that  favor. 

Manuel.  At  least  I  suppose  they  were  friends  of  yours. 
What  woman  is  not  your  friend? 
The  Servant  enters. 

Servant.  Dinner  is  served. 

Adolphe.  Le  dernier  cri  this  season  runs  the  gamut  of 
yellows:  sulphur,  lemon,  orange,  apricot — one  may  even 
wear  yolk  of  an  egg.  . . . 

Ramón.  This  fellow's  conversation  is  limited  to  diet  and 
clothes. 


254  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  i 

María  Antonia.  To  diet,  it  seems,  as  applied  strictly  to 
clothes. 

Isabel.  [To  Gonzalo]  Gonzalo,  I  have  placed  the  bride 
by  you.  Undoubtedly,  she  will  introduce  the  question  of  her 
husband's  appointment. 

Gonzalo.  Do  we  have  to  go  into  that? 

Isabel.  Ramón  is  against  it.  He  will  oppose  it  at  the 
meeting  of  the  Junta. 

Gonzalo.  I  thought  that  you  were  up  to  something. 

Isabel.  I?  I  simply  wish  to  prevent  you  from  making 
a  mistake;  I  am  thinking  about  you,  do  you  hear.'* — about 
you.  What  do  I  care?  It  is  only  another  one,  and  I  am 
used  to  it.    However,  do  as  you  please — as  you  will. 

Curtain 


i 


THE   SECOND    ACT 

The  scene  is  the  same  as  in  the  First  Act. 

Isabel,  Carmen  and  Ramón  are  discovered  together^  while 

the  voices  of  the  other  characters  are  heard  oiUside.     A 

piano  plays  meanwhile. 

Ramón.  I  have  dine^  well,  Isabel;  I  have  dmed  extremely 
well. 

Isabel.  It  is  a  great  pleasure  to  me. 

Carmen.  Who  is  playing  now?    That  cannot  be  Luisita. 

Isabel.  No,  it  is  the  groom.  He  plays  excellently,  with 
rare  feeling. 

Ramón.  Is  that  how  you  knew  that  it  was  not  Luisita  ? 

Carmen.  I  marvel  at  that  young  man.  His  wife  ought  to 
be  very  happy. 

Ramón.  Well,  she  does  not  look  happy  to  me. 

Isabel.  Why?    Ridiculous! 

Ramón.  Isabel,  I  am  a  blunt  man.  I  have  been  able  to 
swallow  everything  at  this  dinner  except  that  couple.  They 
stick  in  my  throat. 

Carmen.  Perfectly  disgusting!  I  hope  you  don't  mind 
what  he  says. 

Isabel.  Antipathies,  like  sympathies,  are  instinctive. 

Ramón.  It  seems  incredible  that  that  boy  should  be 
Barona's  son — ^Barona,  a  man  of  affairs,  a  forceful,  ener- 
getic character!  To  be  sure  he  always  complained  of  his 
wife,  because  she  brought  up  his  children  badly.  What 
sort  of  woman  has  this  fellow  married?  Isabel,  I  am  a 
blunt  man 

Carmen.  Ramón !    Be  careful ! 
255 


^56  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  n 

Ramón.  Of  what?  We  are  as  much  at  home  as  if  this 
were  our  own  family.  Isabel  is — what  shall  I  say? — she  is 
like  a  sister  to  me;  I  have  sisters  and  brothers  of  whom  I 
am  not  nearly  so  fond.  And  I  am  fond  of  Gonzalo,  too.  We 
have  been  in  business  together  since  we  were  boys;  he  has 
always  been  good  to  me.  No  doubt  he  has  his  faults,  but 
what  of  it  ?  Who  has  not  ?  They  do  not  interfere  with  me, 
so  why  should  I  complain?  I  must  say,  though,  Isabel, 
that  when  Gonzalo  knows  what  he  does  know  about  this 
young  woman  who  has  married  herself  to  our  correspondent's 
son,  yes,  to  the  son  of  our  friend — and  I  know  it,  too — well, 
he  has  no  right  to  introduce  her  into  your  house. 

Carmen.  Ramón !    Ramón ! 

Ramón.  I  know  what  I  am  talking  about. 

Isabel.  Do  you  suppose  Gonzalo  knows? 

Ramón.  Of  course  he  does.  This  girl's  mother  is  an  im- 
pudent hussy,  a  Spaniard  who  ran  off  to  Paris  with  a  com- 
mercial traveller.  The  daughter  went  on  the  stage  there — 
the  stage,  did  I  say?  It  was  in  a  café  concert.  You  can 
guess  what  she  was.  Then  the  mother  and  daughter  set 
their  caps  for  this  fool.  Here  they  are  now  posing  as  ladies 
u^der  your  protection  and  sitting  beside  our  daughters; 
you  ought  not  to  consent  to  it — it  is  a  thing  Gonzalo  has  no 
right  to  do.  That  boy  will  never  have  that  position  if  my 
vote  counts  for  anything.  I  am  very  fond  of  you,  Isabel,  I 
do  not  need  to  tell  you  that;  and  I  shall  always  take  your 
part,  whatever  happens — always. 

Isabel.  Thank  you,  Ramón,  thank  you  very  much .... 
She  rises  and  moves  slowly  toward  the  door,  parsing  into 
the  room  where  the  others  are  talking. 

Carmen.  I  hope  she  has  not  forgotten  that  this  is  just 
after  dinner.  Otherwise,  what  will  she  think  ?  Why  do  you 
bother  poor  Isabel  ? 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  25^ 

Ramón.  I  suppose  I  said  what  I  did  because  I  have  had 
too  much  champagne? 

Carmen.  No,  of  course  not.    But  I  am  sorry  for  poor  Isa- 
bel 

^>J8,AMÓN.  So  am  I.  I  am  out  of  patience  with  Gonzalo; 
t£at  is  why  I  cannot  hold  my  tongue.  Nobody  expects  a 
married  man  to  be  as  ideally  faithful  as  his  wife,  but  he 
ought  to  stray  only  occasionally,  when  it  is  of  no  importance. 
This  notion  of  never  being  without  a  love-affair  on  his  hands 
when  he  has  a  wife  like  Isabel. . . .  How  have  you  the 
effrontery  to  complain  of  me?  Compare  us,  now  compare 
us ... . 

Carmen.  I  ?    Complain  of  you  ?    Never ! 

Ramón.  Yes,  you  do.    Women's  imaginations  are  too  ac- 
tive; you  are  too  much  given  to  romance.    Did  you  notice 
Isabel's  martyred  air?    Well,  she  enjoys  it;  she  likes  to  feel 
her  husband  is  that  way.     All  this  talk  about  love-affairs, 
about  women  who  have  lost  their  heads  over  him,  this  never 
being  certain  whether  he  is  hers  or  whether  he  is  not,  makes 
him  important  in  her  eyes  and  surrounds  him  with  a  poetic     i 
halo.    Isabel  is  more  in  love  with  her  husband  every  day,     í 
you  can  take  it  from  me,  which  she  would  never  be  after    ') 
having  been  married  all  these  years  if  Gonzalo  were  a  hus-    | 
band  like  I  am — without  accidents,  or  anything  that  is  ro-  / 
mantic.     Come,  now,  be  honest:  have  you  ever  appreciated  » 
my  incredible  fidelity  in  the  least?     You  think  it  is  not 
virtue,  but  lack  of  ability  to  make  myself  attractive.     Yes, 
you  do.    You  do  not  love  me  as  Isabel  loves  Gonzalo.     I  am 
a  simple  bourgeois,  all  prose,  who  is  good  enough  to  work 
and  to  strike  balances,  and  provide  for  the  future  of  my 
children.    Why,  if  some  day  some  hussy  should  come  along 
and  turn  my  head — which  God  forbid — yes,  if  it  were  for  no 
more  than  half  an  hour — I  should  feel  all  the  while  that  I 


¿58  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  n 

was  robbing  you  and  the  children,  and  I  could  never  forgive 
myself,  even  though  you  might  forgive  me. 

Carmen.  Yes,  there  are  things  which  we  can  never  forgive 
ourselves.  But  don't  hurt  Isabel.  Surely  she  must  have 
noticed  that  woman  coquetting  with  her  husband,  when 
everybody  else  has  noticed  it. 

Ramón.  Coquetting  ?  Coquetting  ?  Well,  I  call  it  cocot- 
ting,  and  precious  little  pretense  about  it  either.  That  is  the 
only. term  that  describes  it. 

Carmen.  Isabel  again ! Change  the  subject. 

Isabel  and  Manuel  enter.  Carmen  and  Ramón 
converse  together  at  one  side,  and  presently  disappear 
into  the  salon  in  which  the  others  are  supposed  to  he. 

Isabel.  [To  Manuel]  I  must  say  that  you  are  unob- 
servant. I  have  been  pulling  at  your  sleeve  for  the  past 
half -hour,  as  a  signal  for  you  to  follow  me;  but  you  were 
oblivious.    I  wish  to  speak  with  you. 

Manuel.  Didn't  you  see  Maria  Antonia  pulling  me  by 
the  other  sleeve  as  a  signal  for  me  not  to  follow  ?  She  also 
wishes  to  speak  with  me. 

Isabel.  When  it  is  a  question  between  mother  and 
daughter,  although  the  heart  may  incline  to  youth,  courtesy 
must  sacrifice  itself  to  age. 

Manuel.  In  this  case,  courtesy  and  the  heart  were  of  one 
accord,  but  Maria  Antonia  has  a  grip  which  is  terrific.  How- 
ever, I  remain  in  my  part. 

Isabel.  In  your  part?    What  is  your  part.?* 

Manuel.  Don't  you  know,  my  friend?  That  of  uni- 
versal confidant,  of  everybody's  friend,  or  rather  the  friend 
of  everybody's  friend.  I  am  like  a  telephone  central;  people 
call  me  up  in  order  to  establish  a  connection.  It  is  not  a 
glorious  role,  as  you  must  confess. 

Isabel.  But  how  necessary ! 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  259 

Manuel.  Cervantes  said  something  of  the  sort  concerning 
an  occupation  very  similar  to  mine;  he  said  that  it  was  neces- 
sary in  any  well-ordered  republic. 

Isabel.  I  am  not  asking  now  for  a  connection;  on  the  con- 
trary, I  wish  to  discontinue  service. 

Manuel.  What  did  I  tell  you?  In  any  event,  mine  is 
an  intermediary  role. 

Isabel.  Is  Federico  Reinosa,  the  author,  one  of  your 
friends  ? 

Manuel.  Do  you  mean  the  dreamer? 

Isabel.  Infinitely  more  dangerous!  Authors  who  write 
their  dreams  exhaust  themselves  in  the  process,  but  dreamers 
who  never  write  but  attempt  to  live  out  their  dreams,  neither 
rest  nor  give  others  any  rest.  Life  to  them  is  a  blank  page 
which  they  are  at  liberty  to  dash  off  at  their  pleasure. 

Manuel.  Apparently  you  know  Federico 

Isabel.  Yes,  he  is  madly  in  love  with  Maria  Antonia. 
I  am  told  that  you  enjoy  his  confidence 

Manuel.  I  merely  offer  him  advice. 

Isabel.  Good  advice  ? 

Manuel.  Naturally,  as  I  am  fond  of  Maria  Antonia.  I 
know  the  value  of  example  and  bringing-up,  and  Maria 
Antonia  has  never  had  anything  but  bringing-up,  and  ex- 
amples of  virtue  in  her  mother  and  in  you. 

Isabel.  When  virtue  has  always  been  touched  with 
sadness  in  a  girl's  experience,  is  it  likely  that  at  twenty  she 
will  resign  herself  to  a  life  of  suffering,  unless  her  love  is  so 
impassioned,  so  blind,  that  it  is  able  to  transform  even  sorrow 
into  something  more  precious  than  joy  ? 

Manuel.  True,  Maria  Antonia  was  not  violently  in  love 
when  she  married.  But  Pepe  is  a  nice  boy.  He  may  make  a 
slip  now  and  then 

Isabel.  Slip?     Maria  Antonia  is  wearing  her  heart  out 


Í260  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  achí 

because  of  his  slips.  I  live  in  terror  of  slips,  so  I  wish  to 
prevent  Maria  Antonia  from  making  any.  She  has  the 
greatest  confidence  in  you;  besides,  you  are  Federico's  friend. 
Tell  me  honestly  what  you  know.  Does  he  speak  much  of 
Maria  Antonia? 

Manuel.  Incessantly;  yes,  indeed!  He  is  in  love  with 
her  madly. 

Isabel.  But  does  he. . . . 

Manuel.  What  are  you  asking  me  ?  I  merely  offer  him 
good  advice,  which  I  do  very  easily  by  repeating  for  his 
benefit  the  precepts  which  I  have  urged  so  frequently  upon 
myself. 

Isabel.  I  remember — in  that  great  passion  of  your  life, 
to  which  you  remain  faithful  even  yet.  Then  by  your  love 
for  Maria  Antonia's  mother,  which  was  all  admiration  and 
all  respect,  help  me  to  protect  her  daughter,  the  daughter 
of  the  woman  you  so  dearly  loved ! 

Manuel.  And  always  did  respect. 

Isabel.  So  the  memory  of  her  love  has  become  the  re- 
ligion of  your  life.  Would  you  have  had  it  otherwise.?  I 
trust  you  entirely.  I  fear  for  Maria  Antonia,  it  is  useless  to 
conceal  it;  there  is  something  in  her  attitude  which  makes 
me  apprehensive  of  the  worst.  Be  fair  with  me,  and  warn  me 
when  there  is  danger.  I  love  Maria  Antonia  as  if  she  were 
my  own  child. 

Manuel.  I  am  sure  of  it,  but  why  worry  ?  Federico  has 
no  reason  to  suspect  my  interest  in  this  affair.  He  trusts 
me  implicitly. 

Isabel.  Thanks,  my  friend,  my  good  and  loyal  friend. 

Manuel.  The  friend  of  everybody — always  the  friend. 
The  world  lives  around  me;  men  love,  quarrel,  suffer — and 
then  they  tell  me  about  it.    And  so  I  live. 

Isabel.  In  the  memory  of  a  great  love,  which  at  least  is 
something. 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  261 

Manuel.  Only  it  was  not  love.  It  was  merely  a  great 
friendship. 

María  Antonia  enters. 

María  Antonia.  Are  you  whispering  secrets  ? 

Isabel.  Why  are  you  running  away.í^  What  are  they  do- 
ing in  the  other  room.?' 

María  Antonia.  Who  cares?  It  does  not  interest  me. 
Manuel,  you  forgot  to  finish  that  story;  I  foimd  it  ex- 
tremely amusing. 

Isabel.  What  story  ? 

María  Antonia.  Oh,  an  account  of  some  pranks  of 
Federico  Reinosa's — eccentricities  of  an  artist. 

Isabel.  Does  he  still  visit  your  house  frequently? 

María  Antonia.  No,  he  and  Pepe  had  a  falling  out — 
some  difference  about  art.  They  both  became  excited,  and, 
needless  to  say,  when  Pepe  becomes  excited,  he  forgets  him- 
self completely. 

Isabel.  Was  Pepe  the  only  one  who  forgot  himself? 

María  Antonia.  Federico  is  a  perfect  gentleman,  who 
would  be  incapable  of  acting  discourteously,  as  Manuel 
knows.  [To  Isabel]  Naturally,  you  have  seen  very  little  of 
him. 

Isabel.  Although  I  have  heard  him  talked  about  a  great 
deal. 

María  Antonia.  Is  that  so  ?    By  whom  ? 

Isabel.  By  you.     I  have  hinted   it  several  times,   but 

it  has  escaped  your  attention.     It  may  not  have  escaped 

.^everybody's. 

^^XMaría  Antonia.  It  certainly  has  Pepe's.      Pepe  is  an 

^  Othello  when  it  is  a  question  of  one  of  his  stage  princesses, 

but  when  his  wife  is  concerned,  he  is  no  better  than  any  other 

husband.     In  his  eyes  I  am  so  insignificant  that  he  never 

bothers  his  head  about  me.    If  anybody  were  to  tell  him  that 


262  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

a  man  had  fallen  in  love  with  me,  he  would  simply  know 
that  it  was  impossible. 

Manuel.  Don't  you  exaggerate  ?    Now,  really ! 
**%  María  Antonia.  Oh,  yes,  yes,  yes,  I  do !    Of  course  any 
affection,  any  decent  treatment  even,  is  offensive  to  me !    I 
am  happy,  exquisitely  happy.    You  must  have  noticed  how 
vivacious  and  communicative  I  have  been  all  evening. 

Manuel.  Yes,  I  did  at  once.  I  said  to  Isabel:  "What  is 
the  matter  with  Maria  Antonia  ?    She  seems  so  happy." 

María  Antonia.  Blissfully  happy ! 

Isabel.  A  nervous  sort  of  happiness — the  pretended 
happiness  with  which,  when  we  are  not  thinking  of  others 
in  the  first  moments  of  a  great  sorrow,  we  attempt  to  deceive 
ourselves.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of  great  sorrows;  they  strike 
so  deep,  so  very  deep  into  the  heart  that  they  seem  to  be 
buried  in  it,  and  we  are  horrified  that  we  do  not  feel  them; 
but  the  deception  does  not  last  long.  They  are  graven  there 
-^  for  the  remainder  of  our  lives.  We  shed  tears  in  the  begin- 
ning, we  complain,  we  rage — then  we  resign  ourselves  and 
bear  them  with  a  smile,  a  sad  and  mournful  smile,  like  a 
gaping  wound  which  never  heals. 

María  Antonia.  Isabel  has  had  experience  both  of  wounds 
and  of  smiles. 

Laughter  outside. 

Manuel.  They  appear  to  be  enjoying  themselves. 

María  Antonia.  Another  hit  of  papa's !  He  is  in  rare 
form  this  evening.  Look  at  him,  surrounded  by  all  the  ladies 
in  rapt  adoration,  from  Carmen,  who  would  have  been  a 
model  wife  had  papa  not  crossed  her  path,  to  calculating 
Laura,  who  you  would  swear  was  completely  monetized, 
and  the  bride,  who  may  be  a  fool,  although  she  has  been 
married  only  two  months— yes,  and  Luisa,  even,  bursting 
forth  in  her  first  evening-gown,  there  they  all  sit  in  ecstasy 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  263 

before  the  eternal  Don  Juan.  It  is  a  picture  too  good  to  be 
missed.  I  tell  Isabel  that  it  is  symbolic.  Whatever  happens 
to  papa  with  the  ladies  is  not  entirely  his  fault. 

Manuel.  No,  take  my  word  for  it.  Inspiring  love  is  a 
gift;  you  must  have  it  in  you.  The  most  fascinating  men  are 
the  ones  who  are  the  most  indifferent.     Don  Juan  says: 

"One  day  to  enamour, 
*  Two  days  to  achieve." 

which,  by  the  way,  sounds  wholly  fantastic  to  me.  One*s 
name  must  be  Tenorio  to  attain  such  success.  Don  Luis's 
conquests  cost  him  double,  while  Avellaneda  and  Captain 
Centellas — but  why  pursue  the  matter  further  .?•  Judging 
by  appearances  they  never  inspired  love  in  their  lives,  which 
explains  why  they  spent  all  their  time  betting  upon  their 
friends.  I  have  always  had  a  great  deal  of  sympathy  for 
those  two  characters. 

Carmen,  Laura,  Josefina,  Luisa,  Gonzalo,  Ramón 
and  Adolphe  enter. 

Laura.  We  are  in  full  flight  before  your  husband.  He  has 
scandalized  us  outrageously. 

María  Antonia.  While  you  fly,  you  still  manage  to  keep 
up  with  him. 

Laura.  He  will  scarcely  repeat  his   sallies  before  you. 
What  a  remarkable  man !    Honestly,  if  it  is  put  properly,  I 
*   believe  one  may  say  anything. 

María  Antonia.  Even  if  it  is  put  improperly,  if  the 
speaker  appears  properly,  one  may  listen  to  everything. 

Josefina.  It  is  his  air  as  he  says  it.  I  should  never  have 
believed  that  I  could  have  laughed  so  much  at  thosethdnjs^ 

María  Antonia.  [To  Maííuel]  She  is  of  the  sort  whoare 
accustomed  to  giggle. 

Adolphe.  Josefina,   is   the    occasion    propitious    for   my 


264  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

imitations  of  Parisian  actresses,  or  a  monologue,  perhaps,  or 
petite  fantasie? 

Josefina.  No,  these  people  are  all  respectable.  Make 
an  impression  on  the  hostess;  it  may  do  us  some  good. 
Compliment  her  upon  her  toilette. 

Adolphe.  I  have  exhausted  my  stock  of  compliments. 

Josefina.  Then  see  what  you  can  do  with  Don  Ramón, 
since  he  is  a  friend  of  your  father's.  I  must  say  that  he  does 
not  look  it;  he  is  not  overenthusiastic.  When  I  asked  him 
to  use  his  influence,  you  should  have  heard  what  he  said  to 
me! 

Adolphe.  Helas  I  Ma  petite  femmei  Our  illusions  fade 
rapidly. 

Josefina.  And  don't  talk  so  much.  I  know  what  I  am 
doing,  and  I  shall  get  what  I  want — you  can  leave  it  to  me. 

Adolphe.  Of  course  I  can  leave  it  to  you.  I  leave  every- 
thing to  you.  [They  continiie  the  conversation. 

Gonzalo.  [To  Cabmen]  Do  me  the  favor  to  persuade 
Ramón  to  support  this  young  man  for  the  position.  The 
future  of  a  loving  couple  is  at  stake.  It  is  in  our  power  to 
contribute  to  their  happiness,  and  you  who  are  so  good 

Carmen.  Please,  Gonzalo !  I  have  no  idea  whether  or  not 
you  are  in  earnest,  but  you  must  not  involve  me  in  your 
affairs,  whether  in  jest  or  in  earnest.  I  can  only  tell  you 
that  you  are  doing  wrong,  you  are  doing  very  wrong,  Gonzalo 
— and  you  always  have  done  wrong. 

Gonzalo.  Will  you  never  forgive  me? 

Carmen.  I  have  forgiven  you,  but  I  can  never  forgive 
myself.  In  spite  of  my  feelings,  I  am  obliged  to  receive  you 
as  a  friend  because  we  are  not  alone  in  the  world.  When 
you  married  Isabel,  I  confessed  to  her,  so  that  I  might  feel 
myself  a  little  less  unworthy  of  her  friendship.  I  had  not  of- 
fended against  her,  yet  she  might  have  closed  her  house  to 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  205 

me,  and  have  justified  herself  by  explaining  the  reason,  or 
otherwise,  I  should  have  been  placed  in  a  position  where  I 
should  not  have  been  able  to  explain  it.  But  she  forgave 
me — at  least  she  took  pity  on  me.  Now  to  ask  me  to  repay 
Isabel  with  a  suggestion  even  of  treachery,  which  she  does 
not  deserve  of  any  one,  much  less  of  you  or  of  me 

Gonzalo.  Who  is  talking  about  treachery? — unless  you 
^  have  become  so  friendly  with  Isabel  that  your  mind,  too,  has 
'  I      been  poisoned,  and  you  are  jealous  yourself. 

Carmen.  Oh,  no  doubt  you  believe  it!  And  I  cannot 
blame  you.  Why  should  my  repentance  be  more  genuine 
to-day  than  my  virtue  was  yesterday? 

Gonzalo.  I  did  not  wish  to  give  offense. 

Carmen.  No,  you  could  not  be  so  cruel.  I  have  not  yet 
wept  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  control  myself  in  public  ex- 
cept at  great  cost. 

Adolphe.  [To  Luisa]  I  shall  send  for  the  waltzes  and 
whatever  else  you  desire. 

Luisa.  I  warn  you  that  you  will  be  throwing  your  money 
away,  as  I  play  atrociously. 

Adolphe.  Yes,  through  lack  of  practice.  You  have  abil- 
ity— oh,  you  have!  You  have  the  equipment  of  a  great 
pianist — ^you  have  the  fingers,  the  heart,  and  you  have 
sympathy  for  the  music.  What  you  need  is  to  learn  to  play. 
IVIusic  is  a  tonic  to  the  soul.  When  one  is  unhappy,  there  is 
nothing  like  music.  I  should  never  have  survived  my  en- 
gagement to  Josefina  if  it  had  not  been  for  music.  Love 
went  wrong  with  us  from  the  beginning;  it  fell  out  badly. 
Señorita,  we  were  so  romantic !  Our  families  were  Capulets 
and  Montagues,  while  we  were  Romeo  and  Juliet.  At  one 
time  we  thought  that  we  should  both  die,  and  be  buried 
togetlier  like  them  in  the  same  tomb. 

Luisa.  Not  really?    You  must  have  been  very  happy! 


f 


266  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

Adolphe.  Have  you  never  been  in  love,  señorita? 

Luisa.  No,  never.  Father  frightens  my  suitors  away,  as 
you  will  discover  presently.  He  examines  them  about  their 
incomes  and,  of  course,  the  most  interesting  men  never  have 
any  incomes.  On  the  other  hand,  a  man  who  has  money  and 
wants  to  get  married  is  a  fool  entirely. 

Gonzalo.  \To  Isabel  a?iá  María  Antonia]  Shall  we 
step  out  to  the  theatre?  What  do  you  say?  We  might 
take  a  look  at  that  play  which  has  made  such  a  hit.  It  will 
amuse  Josefina  and  Adolphe  because  it  is  so  typically  Spanish. 
They  sing  and  dance  jotas  and  tangos. 

Adolphe.  Oh,  yes,  indeed !  Spanish  music  and  dancing 
interest  me  immensely.  We  are  Spanish  at  heart.  When  I 
go  to  a  hal  masqué  in  Paris,  I  am  a  torero. 

Manuel.  A  toreador  ? 

Adolphe.  Ah,  but  you  should  see  my  costume!  It  is 
beautiful,  authentic,  rose  velvet,  with  green  and  gold  'pail- 
lettes. The  Figaro  is  embroidered  with  carnations,  and  I  top 
it  off  with  a  round  hat  with  a  red  cockade,  muzzling  myself 
meanwhile  in  my  great  Spanish  cloak.  I  stick  a  broadsword 
in  my  belt  to  finish  the  bull. 

María  Antonia.  [To  Josefina]  What  do  you  do? 

Josefina.  Oh,  I  am  Carmen ! 

María  Antonia.  With  a  knife  in  your  garter  ? 

Josefina.  No,  it  would  not  be  seen;  I  wear  it  in  my  hair 
to  feature  my  coiffvre.  I  fasten  the  open  blade  between  the 
teeth  of  two  combs.     It  is  inscribed:  "To  your  heart!" 

Ramón.  Oh,  you  devil ! 

Adolphe.  Yes,  that  was  on  it,  too,  at  least  that  was  what 
papa  said:  "Oh,  you  devil!"  Probably  he  wrote  you  the 
details. 

Ramón.  Yes,  when  we  had  no  business  that  was  more 
pressing  to  attend  to. 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  267 

Gonzalo.  Well,  are  we  ready  for  the  theatre?  [To  Isa- 
bel] I  am  sorry  you  are  not  coming. 

Isabel.  No,  I  am^obliged  to  refuse. 

María  Antonia.  [Aside  to  Isabel]  Yes,  you  are  obliged 
to  refuse,  but  you  are  not  obliged  to  say  so. 

Isabel.  [To  Josefina]  You  must  excuse  me,  as  I  cannot 
leave  our  guests. 

Gonzalo.  [To  Ramón]  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  come 
along  ? 

Ramón.  No,  I  must  drop  in  at  the  club.  The  ladies  will 
remain  with  Isabel;  I  shall  dismiss  the  carriage  immediately. 

Laura.  I,  too,  must  tear  myself  away,  as  I  rise  early. 
To-morrow  is  my  busiest  day. 

Manuel.  Is  it?  Let  me  have  your  itinerary,  as  I  may 
catch  a  glimpse  of  you  when  you  get  up. 

Laura.  Do  you  expect  to  rise  early? 

IManuel.  I  expect  not  to  go  to  bed. 

Laura.  Most  unlikely.  I  shall  stop  firsl  at  the  bank, 
where  I  have  some  drafts  to  indorse. 

Manuel.  Do  not  look  for  me  at  the  bank.  It  would  seem 
unveracious. 

Laura.  I  attend  a  conference  next  and  then  fly  to  the 
soup-kitchen. 

Manuel.  We  may  meet  at  the  soup-kitchen  one  of  these 
days. 

Laura.  Next ah!    I  forgot  to  take  San  Antonio  his 

share  of  the  lottery.  I  purchased  a  ticket  and  we  won — or 
rather,  it  was  the  tenth  part  of  a  ticket. 

Manuel.  Have  you  been  playing  the  lottery? 

Laura.  The  prize  was  merely  nominal — thirty  pesetas. 

Ramón.  How  much  are  you  allowing  the  saint? 

Laura.  Two  pesetas,  poor  dear !    He  is  charity  itself. 

Ramón.  Did  you  let  him  m  when  you  sold  that  last  block 


«¿68  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

of  stock  ?  If  you  did,  he  must  have  come  off  with  a  pretty 
penny. 

Laura.  It  is  not  right  to  joke  about  such  things. 

Ramón.  What?    Stocks.'' 

Laura.  No,  saints. 

Ramón.  My  dear,  you  are  the  one  who  is  making  a  joke 
out  of  saints. 

Gonzalo.  Well,  we  shall  be  late. . . . 

Ramón.  [Saying  farewell]  Isabel,  remember — you  may 
count  upon  me. 

Adolphe.  Ladies,  good  evening.  The  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  is  so  great  that  we  hope  to  abuse  frequently. 

Josefina.  You  will  conclude  that  we  are  pests  before  we 

go. 

María  Antonia.  Do  not  put  it  too  strongly. 

Adolphe.  [To  Carmen  and  Luisa]  Señora,  señorita. . . . 

delighted,  delighted [To  Laura]  I  shall  send  you  the 

fashion-plates.  [To  Luisita]  And  you  shall  have  waltzes  and 
the  latest  designs. 

Gonzalo.  Good  evening.  Carmen  and  Luisita.  Good 
night,  Isabel .... 

Laura.  [To  Isabel]  We  shall  not  see  each  other,  I  fear, 
for  a  long,  long  time — at  least,  do  not  count  upon  me  for 
the  iemainder  of  the  week.    Manuel,  are  you  staying  behind  ? 

Manuel.  For  a  few  moments. 

After  exchanging  farewells,  Laura,  Josefina,  Gonzalo, 
Ramón  and  Adolphe  pass  out. 

Manuel.  Shall  we  wait  to  gossip  until  they  reach  the 
door  ? 

Isabel.  I  forbid  it.    Positively,  I  detest  gossip. 

María  Antonia.  Do  you  know,  the  bride  and  groom 
rather  appeal  to  me  ?  They  come,  of  course,  bent  upon  the 
conquest  of  Madrid,  but  when  they  retire  they  may  consider 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  2G9 

they  are  lucky  to  get  oif  themselves.    I  know  what  these 
young  couples  are. 
A  silence. 

Manuel.  It  seems  very  quiet. 

Luisa.  An  angel  has  passed. 

María  Antonia.  Or  a  devil.  Which  ?  When  every  ^pne 
is  silent  it  is  usually  because  every  one  is  thinking  the  same 
thing,  and  it  is  unnecessary  to  speak  in  order  to  understand 
each  other. 

Carmen.  Possibly. 

María  Antonia.  Then  good  night. 

Isabel.  Aren't  you  going  to  wait  for  Pepe  ?  He  is  surely 
coming;  his  letter  said  so. 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  and  meanwhile  I  can  sit  here  and 
wait.  God  knows  when  he  will  put  in  appearance.  If  he 
does  come,  and  does  not  find  me  here,  there  will  not  be  any 
regrets. 

Isabel.  Sit  down  for  a  moment.    He  will  surely  come. 

María  Antonia.  No,  no,  I  am  going — if  only  for  that 
reason.  Besides,  I  am  nervous;  I  do  not  feel  well.  I  have  an 
idea — why  should  I  hide  it  from  you  ? — and  when  I  have  an 
idea,  until  I  put  it  into  execution 

Isabel.  But  Maria  Antonia !    What  is  it  ?    You  alarm  me ! 

María  Antonia.  You  will  find  out  soon  enough.  Good 
night for  the  present.    Good  night.  Carmen  and  Luisita. 

Isabel.  Manuel  will  see  you  home. 

María  Antonia.  Why  should  he?  It  is  not  necessary. 
He  seems  happy  and  comfortable. 

Manuel.  Not  at  all !  I  am  going  with  you.  Good  eve- 
ning, ladies.    Luisita.  .  .  .     Isabel.  . . . 

Isabel.  I  depend  upon  you. 

Manuel.  Trust  me  entirely. 


h 


270  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  actii 

Carmen.  Good  night,  Maria  Antonia.  Rest  quietly  and 
calm  your  nerves.    I  do  hate  to  see  you  uncomfortable. 

María  Antonia.  Of  course.  Good  night,  everybody. 
Good  night Are  you  coming  along? 

Manuel.  Gladly. 
They  go  out. 

Carmen.  Poor  Maria  Antonia !  The  first  disillusionments 
of  married  life. 

Isabel.  They  are  the  saddest, the  most  cruel;  we  have  both 
passed  through  the  experience.  Luisita  listens  horrified .... 
you  must  not  mind  us,  my  dear.  However  clear  the  warning 
of  our  experience  may  be,  you  are  too  young  to  abandon  a 
single  illusion,  or  avoid  in  the  future  so  much  as  one  of  the 
disenchantments  of  life.  Nobody  can  leam  through  the  ex- 
perience of  another.  We  sat  at  our  mother's  feet  and  lis- 
tened, precisely  as  you  do  at  ours,  and  our  mothers  listened 
to  their  mothers,  yet  we  have  all  confided  our  hearts  to  a 
man  with  the  same  love,  the  same  faith,  and  the  same  il- 
lusions as  they.  Life  would  be  even  sadder  than  it  is  if  we 
were  to  realize  upon  its  threshold,  that  we  do  no  more  in 
living  than  reincarnate  the  sorrows  of  those  who  have  passed 
before  us  through  life. 

Luisa.  Maria  Antonia  ought  never  to  have  married  Pepe. 
To  be  happy,  a  girl  must  marry  only  when  she  is  very  much 
in  love.  I  shall  never  marry  in  any  other  way.  I  must 
marry  a  man  whom  I  love  with  my  whole  soul,  and  who  loves 
me  with  his;  then  what  reason  can  there  be  why  we  should  not 
be  happy  .i^  Maria  Antonia  would  have  been  very  happy  if 
she  had  married  Enrique.  I  am  sorry  for  my  poor  brother; 
it  was  foolish  of  them  both.  I  have  never  yet  been  able  to 
understand  why  they  drifted  apart.  I  suppose  the  fault  was 
Enrique's — some  slight  of  his,  perhaps,  or  a  mistake,  which 
Maria  Antonia  was  unwilling  to  forgive. 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  271 

Carmen.  Don*t  say  that,  my  dear.  You  do  not  know 
how  terribly  it  makes  me  feel. 

Isabel.  What  have  you  heard  from  Enrique?  Does  he 
write  frequently  ? 

Luisa.  His  letters  are  very  sad.  Father  was  dreadfully 
severe  when  he  went  away.  He  is  severe  with  us  all;  he 
imagines  that  we  do  not  love  him  sufficiently. 

Carmen.  Ramón  is  extremely  kind,  but  he  feels  that 
he  best  expresses  his  affection  by  working  incessantly  to 
makei^us  rich.  When  he  turns  impatiently  from  the  caresses 
of  his  children  because  he  is  absorbed  in  business  cares,  he 
expects  them  to  appreciate  his  ill-humor,  and  to  thank  him 
for  it,  since  it  is  an  evidence  of  additional  thousands  which 
he  is  earning  for  them. 

Luisa.  He  cannot  understand  that  love  takes  no  interest 
in  account-books. 

Carmen.  There  came  a  time  when  they  grew  hateful,  too, 
to  me;  but  then,  after  the  bitterness  of  many  sorrows,  I  have 
learned  that  if  true  affection  exists  anywhere,  it  is  only  in  the 
prose  of  life,  and  we  must  reconcile  ourselves  to  finding  it 
there,  amid  aridness  and  vulgarity,  unless  we  are  prepared 
to  mourn  all  our  lives  an  irreparable  loss. 

Isabel.  All  men  are  egotists;  they  are  forever  indifferent 

to  the  emotions  which  we  feel.    Luisita  is  still  horrified 

She  will  dream  of  unhappy  marriages  to-night,  as  children 
have  nightmares  when  they  listen  to  ghost-stories  or  hear 
tales  of  robbers  before  going  to  bed.  No,  pay  no  attention 
to  what  we  say;  it  does  not  interest  you.     These  are  old 

wives'  tales Ah!     Pepe  has  kept  his  word  and   Maria 

Antonia  did  not  wait. . . . 
Pepe  enters. 

Pepe.  Good  evening.  Carmen.  Luisita — ^how  stunning! 
Where  is  Maria  Antonia? 


272  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

Isabel.  She  was  afraid  you  were  not  coming.  She  was 
tired,  and  did  not  wait. 

Pepe.  Is  that  so  ?  Well,  was  she  in  a  horrible  humor  all 
evening  .'* 

Isabel.  She  was  nervous.  How  was  the  reading  ?  Inter- 
esting ? 

Pepe.  No,  it  was  not.  What  are  you  trying  to  insinuate  ? 
I  went  to  obligfe  a  friend,  as  a  matter  of  duty,  although  I 
could  never  convince  Maria  Antonia. 

Isabel.  Men  are  not  always  easy  to  convince  either — 
not  that  I  excuse  Maria  Antonia,  but  it  might  prove  illumi- 
nating, perhaps,  if  we  could  have  a  little  talk.  I  feel  like  a 
mother-in-law  to-night  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  without,  I 
suppose,  any  title  to  the  part. 

Pepe.  Shall  we  postpone  it  till  another  evening.?  I  must 
hurry  home  if  I  am  to  receive  credit  for  being  early.  Maria 
Antonia 

Isabel.  Just  a  moment.  The  lecture  will  not  be  a  long 
one. 

Carmen.  Has  the  carriage  returned? 

Isabel.  Do  not  go  upon  our  account;  make  yourselves 
thoroughly  at  home.  Besides,  it  is  no  secret.  I  shall  not 
speak  less  plainly  because  you  are  present,  and  Pepe  will 
not  listen  with  any  less  patience. 

Carmen.  No,  we  feel  at  liberty  to  go  because  we  know 
you  so  well.  Let  the  reproof  be  less  public,  but  make  it  a 
thousand  times  more  severe. 

Isabel  rings,  and  a  Servant  enters. 

Isabel.  Has  the  carriage  returned  for  the  ladies  ? 

Servant.  Yes,  señora,  a  moment  ago.  ^ 

Carmen.  Adios,  then,  Isabel  and  Pepe.  Remember, 
whatever  Isabel  tells  you  will  be  for  your  own  good. 

Pepe.  Surely.    I  only  wish  Maria  Antonia  were  like  her. 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  273 

Carmen.  Yes,  I  wish  we  were  all  like  her.  But  think 
what  it  has  cost  her  to  become  what  she  is ! 

Luisa.  Good  night,  Isabel. 

Isabel.  Adios,  my  dear.     Forgive  us   for  clouding  the 
heaven  of  your  dreams,  but  this  has  been  a  foggy  day. 
Carmen  and  Luisa  go  out. 

Pepe.  What  did  Maria  Antonia  say.?  Did  she  tell  you 
anything  about  me.'*    How  does  she  excuse  her  behavior? 

Isabel.  She  had  nothing  to  say;  she  has  no  particular  ex- 
cuse. She  is  uneasy,  apprehensive  of  something  which  only 
you  can  explain.  We  have  all  noticed  it;  naturally,  your  wife 
was  the  first. . . . 

Pepe.  You  are  wholly  mistaken.  There  is  absolutely  not 
one  word  of  truth  in  it. 

Isabel.  Nonsense,  Pepe!  Do  not  try  to  deceive  me.  It 
may  mean  much  or  little  in  your  life,  and  doubtless  you  judge 
the  importance  which  your  wife  and  others  should  attach  to 
it,  by  the  light  in  which  it  appears  to  you;  but  do  not  pretend 
that  it  is  nothing,  that  for  some  months  your  attitude  has 
not  changed  completely.  All  men  are  bad  actors.  It  is  one- 
of  their  best  qualities.  Your  vanity  plays  havoc  with  your 
judgment  and  with  your  self-interest.  The  humblest  woman 
in  the  world  might  fall  in  love  with  a  king,  and  no  one,  as  far 
as  she  was  concerned,  be  the  wiser;  but  woe  betide  the  luck- 
less queen  who  falls  in  love  with  an  ordinary  man !  He  would 
make  it  his  business  to  proclaim  it  from  the  housetops,  al- 
though life  itself  were  forfeit  in  the  process. 

Pepe.  If  that  is  your  opinion  of  men 

Isabel.  Seriously,  Pepe,  if  love  never  sacrifices  itself, 
how  is  it  to  be  distinguished  from  indifference .''  A  man  has 
a  thousand  opportunities  to  engage  in  adventures  without 
design  upon  his  part,  into  which  his  heart  does  not  enter  at 
all;  nevertheless,  he  is  tormenting  the  woman  who  has  con- 


274  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

fided  her  heart  to  him  with  all  its  illusions,  for  the  rest  of 
her  day^.  Men  are  always  so  sure  of  themselves.  When  you 
embark  upon  an  affair,  you  fancy  you  know  beforehand  ex- 
actly how  far  you  will  go,  and  you  expect  us  to  be  as  certain 
of  it  as  yourselves.  But  it  is  never  possible  to  answer  for  the 
heart,  and  it  is  dangerous  to  trifle  with  it,  whether  it  be  one's 
own,  or  belong  to  another.  It  is  diflicult  to  resign  oneself, 
as  I  have  learned  by  experience.  Perhaps,  even,  resignation 
is  not  a  virtue;  it  may  be  no  more  than  temperament.  There 
are  persons  who  never  resign  themselves,  who  protest,  who 
fight — ^and  I  have  told  you  already  that  it  is  not  safe  to 
trifle  with  the  heart;  it  is  dangerous. 

Pepe.  But  how  shall  I  convince  you  ?  Who  invented  this 
story? 

Isabel.  Poor  Pepe !  Do  you  really  believe  that  you  can 
deceive  me?  What  are  your  shifts  and  devices  beside  those 
of  my  Don  Juan,  whom  I  have  always  with  me  ?  Merely  by 
looking  in  his  face,  I  read  his  innermost  soul. 

Pepe.  But  all  men  are  not  the  same.  I  begin  to  suspect 
that  you  are  the  one  who  has  been  tampering  with  Maria 
Antonia. 

Isabel.  If  you  are  foolish  enough  to  believe  that,  I  shall 
never  speak  to  you  again.  I  am  interested  in  your  happi- 
ness— ^I  wished  to  warn  you  in  time.  Now  you  may  thank 
me  for  it. . . .  But  never  mind.  Some  one  is  coming. . . . 
Maria  Antonia ! 
^  María  Antonia  enters. 

Pepe.  María  Antonia !    What  are  you  doing  ? 

Isabel.  What  is  the  matter? 

María  Antonia.  As  I  had  no  intention  of  encountering 
him  at  home,  perhaps  it  is  fortunate  that  I  have  happened 
upon  him  here.  Didn't  you  expect  me  ?  I  told  you  that  I 
had  an  idea,  and  that  I  would  not  rest  until  I  had  put  it  into 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  £75 

execution.  Well,  here  they  are. . . .  [Throwing  a  number  of 
letters  and  photographs  upon  the  table]  Do  you  see  them? 
Now  you  know  what  it  was;  there  is  no  need  for  me  to  tell 
you. 

Pepe.  María  Antonia ! 

Isabel.  What  have  you  done? 

Mabía  Antonia.  Now  deny  it !  Say  that  it  is  a  case  of 
nerves,  that  I  am  a  spoiled  child !  Tell  me  I  am  impossible, 
that  I  never  give  you  any  peace !  What  more  peace  do  you 
want?    You  seem  to  have  been  enjoying  yourself.     Here, 

look  at  them !    Letters,  pictures Lovely,  are  they  not? 

Fascinating ! 

Pepe.  Are  you  crazy?  I  demand  that  Isabel  read  these 
letters.  Let  her  decide  whether  there  is  any  warrant  for  this 
jealous  scene,  which  you  have  trumped  up  out  of  some  ri- 
diculous play.  Letters,  are  they?  Yes,  interesting  letters, 
such  as  anybody  might  write — to  anybody,  to  a  friend; 
letters  from  actors,  pictures  of  actresses — because  there  is 
more  than  one.    They  are  not  all  from  the  same  person. 

María  Antonia.  So  I  see.  And  they  are  not  all  written 
in  the  same  tone  either. 

Pepe.  Do  you  suppose  that  I  attach  any  importance  to 
these  contemptible  souvenirs  ?  I  should  have  shown  them  to 
you  before,  if  I  had  not  been  certain  that  you  would  put  ex- 
actly this  interpretation  upon  them  when  I  did  so. 

María  Antonia.  If  I  had  never  seen  them,  either  before 
or  now,  then  I  should  never  have  put  any  interpretation 
upon  them.  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  there  is  noth- 
ing in  those  letters  ?  I  am  likely  to  believe  it.  Here,  take 
any  one  of  them.  What  does  it  say?  "As  I  told  you  yes- 
terday  "  How  about  this?  "Of  course,  you  under- 
stand  '*  Another:  " Remember %hat  we  said '*  Ev- 
ery one  presupposes  an  interview.     Why  waste  your  time 


276  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

saying  anything  when  it  is  as  plain  as  day  that  everything 
has  been  said  already  ?  No,  there  is  nothing  in  them,  there 
is  not  one  glimmer  of  sense ! 

Isabel.  Are  you  perfectly  sure? 

Pepe.  Probably  that  explains  why  I  concealed  them  so 
carefully,  where  it  was  easy  for  you  to  lay  your  hands  on 
them  as  soon  as  you  descended  to  breaking  open  my  fur- 
niture, with  the  help  of  the  servants,  no  doubt,  as  further 
evidence  of  your  delicacy  and  good  taste. 

María  Antonia.  At  least  I  still  retain  womanliness  enough 
to  respect  myself,  and  I  shall  not  soon  forget  how  to  do  so. 
I  am  quite  equal  to  discovering  what  I  have  a  right  to  know, 
in  whatever  way  may  suit  my  convenience. 

Pepe.  If  you  had  any  regard  for  the  truth  when  you  had 
discovered  it.  I  should  be  deligtdted.  Instead,  all  you  do  is  to 
distort  it,  and  invent  lies,  which  have  no  existence  outside  of 
your  own  imagination. 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  I  have  been  dreaming.  None  of 
this  is  true;  it  is  all  imagination,  a  fit  of  nerves.  Well,  I  have 
decided  to  cure  myself.  I  have  come  here  to  forget — to  find 
peace,  repose ! 

Pepe.  Yes,  and  you  have  lost  no  time  either  in  rushing 
back  to  stage  the  spectacle.  I  wonder  what  your  father  will 
say  ?    What  will  Isabel  think  ?    What  will  the  world  think  ? 

María  Antonia.  All  you  need  worry  about  is  what  I 
think.  I  did  not  come  here  to  make  a  scene — on  the  con- 
trary, I  came  to  avoid  one,  to  remain  in  my  own  home  in 
peace,  as  if  we  had  never  seen  each  other,  as  if  nothing  had 
ever  happened  between  us,  as  if  all  this  were  a  bad  dream ! 
Do  you  understand  me? 

Isabel.  Maria  Antonia ! 

Pepe.  What  are  you  talking  about?  Do  you  suppose 
that  I  will  consent  to  this? 


ACTn  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  277 

María  Antonia.  We  shall  see. 

Pepe.  We  certainly  shall  see.  Have  you  so  little  pride 
that  you  are  willing  to  make  us  both  ridiculous,  not  only  be- 
fore your  parents,  but  publicly  ?  When  it  comes  to  suspicion, 
I  might  have  suspected  myself  that  when  one  of  my  most 
intimate  friends  made  advances  to  my  wife,  it  was  because 
her  conduct  justified  his  insolence, 

MarU  Antonia.  Do  you  hear  him  ?    He  insults  me ! 

Isabel.  Pepe,  stop !    What  are  you  trying  to  do  ? 

Pepe.  No,  I  did  not  believe  it,  I  could  not  believe  it.  I 
contrived  a  pretext  and  our  friendship  cooled,  so  that  no- 
body might  suspect.  You  cannot  say  that  I  seemed  to  notice 
it,  or  that  I  insulted  you  with  suspicions,  as  you  contmually 
insult  me. 

María  Antonia.  This  is  too  much !  Our  cases  are  not 
similar. 

Pepe.  I  am  not  so  sure.  It  is  not  a  question  of  motives, 
it  is  a  question  of  common  decency. 

María  Antonia.  Have  you  the  impudence  to  insinu- 
ate  Oh,  how  insulting!      How  insulting!     He  dares  to 

pretend  that  he  might  have  had  a  suspicion  of  me.  And  you 
said  nothing,  I  suppose,  out  of  delicacy,  out  of  fineness  of 
feeling  ?  Well,  your  delicacy  is  a  measure  of  your  affection, 
because  I  am  not  able  to  remain  silent.  I  have  less  regard 
for  decency  than  you  have. 

Isabel.  Listen  to  me,  Maria  Antonia 

María  Antonia.  This  is  the  end !     Let  him  go;  I  have 

finished I  shall  remain  here,  in  my  own  home,  with  my 

father,  and  with  you — yes,  with  you,  my  mother.  For  you 
are  my  mother! 

Isabel.  Reflect !  Consider— if  not  for  my  sake,  for  your 
mother's  sake !    You  cannot  do  it ! 


278  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

Pepe.  No,  argument  is  useless.  This  was  all  prearranged; 
she  has  been  waiting  for  a  favorable  opportunity  to  stage 
the  scene. 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  it  is  all  my  fault !  It  is  my  nerves, 
my  nerves ! 

Isabel.  Silence!     Your  father Whatever  you  do, 

keep  it  from  him.     Don't  let  him  know Pepe !    María 

Antonia,  I  implore  you. . . .     Go  before  he  sees  you,  unless 
you  can  control  yourselves. 

Pepe.  I  can  conceal  my  feelings. 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  so  can  I.  I  shall  learn  for  once 
how  to  pretend — but  it  will  not  be  for  long. 

Pepe.  Very  well.  We  shall  take  it  up  with  your  parents 
in  the  morning,  when  we  can  discuss  matters  more  calmly. 

Isabel.  Yes,  to-morrow,  let  us  wait  imtil  morning. . . . 
Dry  your  eyes,  if  you  love  me. 
Gonzalo  enters, 

Gonzalo.  Hello!    Are  you  still  here? 

Pepe.  Yes,  we  were  just  going.  It  was  so  late  that  we 
thought  that  perhaps  we  might  see  you. 

Gonzalo.  I  stepped  out  to  the  theatre  for  a  moment  with 
our  young  friends  from  Paris.     Well,  how  was  the  reading  ? 

Pepe.  Pshaw !    What  can  a  man  tell  by  a  reading  ? 

María  Antonia.  Good-by,  Isabel.    Good  night,  papa. 

Gonzalo.  Have  the  clouds  passed  away  ? 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  all  is  over. 

Gonzalo.  Have  you  been  crying?  Tears  of  forgiveness 
are  sweet 

María  Antonia.  As  tears  of  repentance. 

Pepe.  Do  you  leave  early  in  the  morning  ? 

Gonzalo.  No.    Why  do  you  ask  ? 

Pepe.  I  may  drop  in  to  see  you. — Will  you  tell  him,  Isabel  ? 

Isabel.  I  don't  know;  I  cannot  think Be  sensible. 


ACT  II  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  279 

^  ^  Pepe. . . .     Control  yourself,  Maria  Antonia.    I  shall  come  to 
-  you  the  very  first  thing  in  the  morning. 
Pepe  and  María  Antonia  go  oid. 

Gonzalo.  Another  scene,  eh  ? 

Isabel.  No,  we  spent  a  quiet  evening.  How  did  you  like 
the  play  ?    Did  our  guests  enjoy  themselves .'' 

Gonzalo.  Vastly.  The  music  is  charming — most  agree- 
able.   She  was  delighted;  they  danced  a  tango. 

Isabel.  Josefina  must  have  attracted  a  great  deal  of  at- 
tention.   She  is  beautiful,  and  exceedingly  well-dressed. 

Gonzalo.  I  noticed  everybody  staring  at  our  box.  Natu- 
rally, when  a  new  face  appears  in  Madrid 

Isabel.  Especially  if  the  face  is  thoroughly  worth  while. 

Gonzalo.  Is  there  a  light  in  the  study?  I  have  some 
letters  to  write  before  going  to  bed;  I  must  be  up  early, 

Isabel.  Please  don't  write  to-night. 

Gonzalo.  I  shall  not  have  time  in  the  morning.  That  re- 
minds me:  I  told  Pepe  I  should  not  leave  early;  but  I  must. 

Isabel.  Why? 

Gonzalo.  A  conference  with  Ramón  before  the  meeting 
of  the  Junta. 

Isabel.  Oh,  yes !  To  persuade  him  to  favor  the  nomina- 
tion ? 

Gonzalo.  And  other  business.  I  must  finish  those  let- 
ters. [He  passes  into  the  study, 

Isabel,  Oh !    By  the  way 

Gonzalo.  [Outside]  What  is  it? 

Isabel.  Nothing.  [Isabel  rings  and  a  Servant  enters] 
Ask  Lucila  to  come  to  my  room;  I  shall  retire  immediately. 
[Gonzalo  begins  to  sing  in  the  study]  You  seem  to  be  happy. 

Gonzalo.  I  was  not  thinking.  That  music  runs  in  my 
head. 


280  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ii 

Isabel.  Oh,  horrible! Too  horrible!    It  cannot  be 

possible 

Gonzalo.  I  have  always  had  a  bad  ear. 

[He  continues  to  sing, 

Isabel.  But  how how  can  you  be  happy? 

Gonzalo.  Are  you  sorry  to  see  me  happy  ? 

Isabel.  No,  no No  doubt  you  have  reason  to  be 

happy. 

A  pause,  Isabel  bursts  into  tears,  Gonzalo  suddenly 
appears  in  the  doorway.  Isabel  endeavors  to  con- 
trol herself,  as  she  sees  him. 

Gonzalo.  Isabel,  I  have  something  to  tell  you 

Isabel.  What  is  it?    What  do  you  wish? 

Gonzalo.  But  what  is  the  matter?  Why  are  you  crying? 
For  you  are  crying.    What  is  the  matter? 

Isabel.  Nothing,  oh,  nothing.  I  did  not  mean  to  trouble 
you,  but  Maria  Antonia  is  very  unhappy.  She  is  jealous. 
Pepe 

Gonzalo.  Nonsense!  Utter  foolishness!  Who  pays  any 
attention  to  such  things?    Nerves  in  a  spoiled  child. 

Isabel.  Perhaps. . .  .you  don't  know. . . . 

Gonzalo.  And  at  present  I  do  not  care  to  be  told  either. 
I  have  important  letters  to  write,  I  have  no  time  to  waste 
upon  trifles.  Moreover,  I  am  happy,  and  I  do  not  intend  to 
get  myself  into  bad  humor. 

Isabel.  You  are  right — if  you  can  be  happy. 

Gonzalo.  But  what  is  the  matter  ?  Why  must  we  always 
have  these  scenes  ?  I  shall  finish  these  letters,  and  then  you 
can  tell  me  whatever  you  like.     Good-by,  for  the  present. 

[He  disappears  into  the  study. 

Isabel.  [At  the  door]  Good  night ! 

Curtain 


THE    THIRD   ACT 

The  same  scene. 

Isabel,  Cabmen,  Laura,  and  Luisa  surround  Gonzalo. 

Isabel.  Protests  are  useless,  as  you  cannot  go  out.  Do 
help  me  convince  him. 

Laura.  Positively,  you  must  not  leave  the  house. 

Carmen.  It  is  folly  to  think  of  it. 

Gonzalo.  But  I  am  perfectly  well.  The  carriage  ¡s 
closed;  besides,  I  am  wrapped  up  majestically. 

Isabel.  Why  should  you  go  out? 

Gonzalo.  I  must  stop  at  the  office. 

Isabel.  Why  ?    Ramón  says  it  is  wholly  unnecessary. 

Carmen.  Ramón  will  keep  you  fully  informed.  Isn't  he 
coming  to-day?    He  comes  every  day. 

Gonzalo.  Yes,  but  it  is  an  imposition.  He  has  more  than 
he  can  attend  to  already. 

Laura.  Come,  come,  don't  be  disagreeable.  You  are 
worse  than  a  spoiled  child.  I  believe  he  is  not  himself  yet; 
he  looks  very  badly. 

Isabel.  Doesn't  he?    He  is  weak;  he  cannot  eat. 

Laura.  And  yet  you  insist  upon  going  out?  Take  off 
that  coat  at  once,  hand  me  your  hat,  and  have  done  with  it ! 
What  you  need  is  peace  and  quiet  at  home  in  the  house.  If 
you  give  us  any  more  trouble,  we  shall  put  you  to  bed  by 
main  force. 

Gonzalo.  Very  well.     I  surrender. 

Laura.  The  weather  to-day  is  terrible.  I  ventured  out 
to  visit  my  poor,  when,  suddenly,  a  gust  came  up,  and  I 
was  in  danger  of  being  wafted  away. 

281 


282  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  iii 

Isabel.  The  doctor  says  that  he  is  in  no  condition  to  go 
out. 

Laura.  Pneumonia  lurks  on  the  street-corners.  It  is 
making  a  specialty  this  season  of  prominent  people. 

Gonzalo.  If  the  best  people  are  all  dying But  are 

you  sure  that  it  is  the  modish  disease.'* 

Laura.  I  advise  you  not  to  take  it  too  lightly.  Is  he 
really  unable  to  eat? 

Isabel.  He  can  swallow  nothing — as  yet  he  has  strength 
to  resist. 

Laura.  It  seems  incredible.  Here,  take  some  nourish- 
ment at  once.    What  would  you  prefer  ? 

Gonzalo.  But  my  dear  Laura 

Laura.  We  must  feed  him  forcibly.  {She  rings  and  a  Ser- 
vant enters]  Choose  what  you  wish. 

Isabel.  No,  the  doctor  has  prescribed  these  pills  first.  He 
insists  that  he  cannot  swallow  them  either. 

Laura.  What  is  that?    Give  me  those  pills. 

Gonzalo.  But  my  dear  Laura 

Laura.  Open  your  mouth.    How  many  does  he  take.? 

Isabel.  Two. 

Laura.  Better  make  it  three  for  good  measure.  Come, 
open  your  mouth.    One,  two 

Gonzalo.  I  am  choking. ... 

Laura.  Water!    Water! 

Luisa.  Run  quick !    A  glass  of  water !    He  is  choking ! 

Gonzalo.  Gracious! Don*t  be  alarmed;  I  am  better 

now. . . , 

Luisa.  Wasn't  it  awful  ?    I  was  frightened  to  death. 

Laura.  Now  the  other  one. 

Gonzalo.  No,  one  is  sufficient.    Thank  you  so  much. 

Laura.  You  cannot  accuse  us  of  neglecting  you,  whatever 
happens. 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  283 

Gonzalo.  I  appreciate  it. 

Laura.  Remember  that  you  do  not  deserve  such  atten- 
tion. I  wish  you  could  have  seen  us  on  the  first  day  of  the 
attack ! 

Luisa.  We  could  not  have  cried  more  if  you  had  really 
been  dead. 

Laura.  And  I  do  not  believe  we  should  have  felt  worse. 

Gonzalo.  You  are  extremely  considerate. 

Laura.  I  indulged  myself  in  a  vow,  which  I  am  ashamed 
to  tell,  because  I  am  sure  you  would  laugh  at  me. 

Luisa.  I  made  a  vow,  too. 

Isabel.  Did  you,  Luisita  ?    What  was  your  vow  ? 

Luisa.  Not  to  go  to  the  theatre  for  the  rest  of  the  month. 

Carmen.  But  she  never  said  one  word  to  us  about  it. 
Her  father  could  not  sleep  last  night  because  she  refused  an 
invitation  to  go  to  the  opera. 

Laura.  My  vow  was  somewhat  more  ambitious.  It  was 
to  make  peace  with  my  sister-in-law,  Vicenta,  although  it  is 
six  years  since  we  have  spoken  to  each  other.  God  knows 
it  is  the  greatest  sacrifice  I  could  think  of,  because  the  only 
result  of  our  making  up  will  be  that  we  shall  be  fighting 
harder  than  ever  within  two  or  three  days. 

Gonzalo.  But  you  must  not  do  that  upon  my  account. 
Your  poor  sister-in-law  did  not  make  any  vow. 

Laura.  Let  her  talk  herself  to  death,  if  she  wants  to;  she 
is  a  shrew.  My  poor  brother  died  of  her  by  lingering  de- 
grees. 

Carmen.  [To  Isabel]  Are  you  more  reassured  now  ? 

Isabel.  Yes^  the  doctor  feels  that  the  attack  was  not 
serious. 

Laura.  You  should  take  him  to  a  temperate  climate  to  recu- 
perate, such  as  Málaga  or  Nice.  If  you  decide  upon  Nice,  I 
am  planning  to  accompany  you.    I  have  never  visited  Nice, 


284  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  iii 

and  the  gay  life  of  the  Casino  attracts  me.  Then  there  is 
roulette  at  Monte  Carlo,  which  I  find  alluring. 

Isabel.  But,  Laura,  you  are  not  serious!  You  don't 
really  mean  it  .'* 

Laura.  I  am  utterly  serious.  I  have  every  intention  of 
trying  my  luck. 

Carmen.  [To  Isabel]  Have  you  talked  with  Ramón  ? 

Isabel.  No.    Why  do  you  ask? 

Carmen.  He  has  something  to  tell  you. 

Isabel.  About 

Carmen.  Yes,  they  are  leaving  for  Paris. 

Isabel.  Do  you  believe  it  is  true.?* 

Carmen.  It  was  to  be  expected  after  the  trouble.  You 
should  be  greatly  relieved.  It  is  the  best  possible  solution. 
That  woman  is  dangerous. 

Isabel.  I  am  not  satisfied  as  yet. ...  I  never  saw  Gon- 
zalo so  preoccupied;  he  was  infatuated  in  sober  earnest. 

Carmen.  I  am  sceptical  myself. 
^  Laura.  [T^o  Gonzalo]  Thestoryhas  become  common  prop- 
erty. You  were  head  over  heels  in  love,  like  a  schoolboy. 
What  with  strolls  through  the  Moncloa  and  out  to  the  Casa 
de  Campo,  to  say  nothing  of  a  fortune  squandered  in  pres- 
ents      Why,  my  friends  have  done  nothing   but   meet 

you  in  the  shops  all  winter,  jewellers'  shops,  florists'  and 
confectioners'  quite  indifferently.  Apparently  her  tastes 
were  expensive.  To  cap  the  climax,  somebody  surprised 
you  buying  a  tambourine  with  red  tassels  on  it,  and  pictures 
of  bull-fighters  painted  all  over  it. 

Gonzalo.  How  people  do  love  to  gossip !  There  is  nothing 
unusual  in  my  making  purchases  of  that  nature.  Correspon- 
dents abroad  are  continually  sending  me  commissions,  or  I 
have  friends  to  oblige  who  live  in  foreign  countries.  Gen- 
erally, they  wish  something  distinctively  Spanish,  perhaps 
for  a  gift,  or  else  as  a  memento. 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  285 

Laura.  That  might  explain  the  tambourine,  or  even  jus- 
tify a  pair  of  banderillas.  But  who  orders  jewels  and  flowers 
from  Madrid  ? 

Gonzalo.  We  entertain  constantly.  The  daughter  of  a 
business  friend  is  married  to-day,  to-morrow  the  wife  of  an- 
other arrives,  and  expects  me  to  pay  her  attention. 

Laura.  In  that  case,  my  dear,  your  friends  have  been 
marrying  this  season  en  rrmssey  and  you  have  returned  every 
species  of  favor.  A  few  more  winters  like  this,  and  you  will 
be  ruined  irreparably. 

Gonzalo.  What  is  this  talk  ?  Seriously,  I  am  interested 
to  hear.  You  meet  all  sorts  of  people;  you  pick  up  a  great 
deal  of  gossip. 

Laura.  For  once  all  the  different  versions  agree.  The 
debacle  was  tremendous. 

Gonzalo.  Idle  chatter;  preposterous.    Anything  else? 

Laura.  It  seems  that  the  husband,  whom  you  had  placed 
with  the  company,  presumed  upon  your  influence  to  abuse 
his  subordinates.  One  of  them,  tired  of  his  insolence,  forgot 
himself  one  day,  and  so  the  story  came  out,  to  the  huge  de- 
light of  the  bystanders.  At  first  a  duel  seemed  inevitable. 
You  flew  into  the  appropriate  passion,  she  no  doubt  did  the 
same,  but  the  husband  remained  unmoved,  as  the  best  he 
could  do  was  to  resign  his  position,  and  he  would  not  have 
done  that  had  it  not  been  for  the  repeated,  urgent  msistence 
of  the  stockholders,  reinforced  by  your  good  friend  Ramón. 
Are  there  any  corrections  which  you  desire  to  make?  Or  is 
the  story  complete  as  it  stands? 

Gonzalo.  For  once  it  does  not  depart  very  widely  from 
the  truth. 

Laura.  But  your  poor  wife. ... 

Gonzalo.  Suspects  nothing. 

Laura.  Or  you  prefer  to  believe  that  she  does  not,  in 
which  case  one  ground  of  remorse  is  eliminated.    How  like  a 


286  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  iii 

man !  The  world  is  cruel.  I  have  never  ceased  to  bless  the 
hour  when  I  declined  to  marry. 

Gonzalo.  Was  it  only  a  question  of  an  hour? 

Cabmen.  Come  over  and  sit  by  us,  Luisita.  The  poor 
child  wanders  about  the  room  like  a  lost  soul .... 

Luisa.  Your  conversation  was  not  proper  for  me  to 
hear,  so  I  moved  over  and  joined  the  others,  and  their 
conversation  was  not  proper  either.  How  old  must  a  girl 
be  before  it  is  proper  for  her  to  listen  to  what  people  say  ? 

Laura.  When  it  ceases  to  interest  her,  because  it  is  no 
longer  possible  to  tell  her  anything  new. 
Ramón  enters. 

Ramón.  I  observe  that  you  are  taking  good  care  of  the 
patient. 

Gonzalo.  Care  ?  It  is  sequestration.  They  forbid  me  to 
go  out,  although  I  should  be  at  the  oflSce. 

Ramón.  Not  as  yet.     I  brought  you  some  letters 

Pardon,  Laura,  I  did  not  see  you  when  I  came  in.  Have 
you  received  the  announcement  of  the  new  loan?  I  sent  it 
immediately,  at  your  request. 

Laura.  Thank  you  so  much;  I  was  curious  to  look  it  over. 

Ramón.  I  had  no  idea  that  you  would  subscribe.  [To 
Isabel]  What  does  the  doctor  say  ? 

Isabel.  He  may  sit  up,  but  he  must  not  leave  the  house 
in  this  weather. 

Ramón.  Clearly  not. 

CarmeNí  Now  that  Ramón  is  here,  we  may  say  good-by 
with  a  clear  conscience;  you  have  company. 

Gonzalo.  No,  remain  with  Isabel.  We  shall  retire  to  the 
study. 

Carmen.  Isabel  is  coming  with  us. 

Gonzalo.  She  is  ? 

Isabel.  I  must  see  Maria  Antonia;   I  am  becoming  anx- 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  287 

ious.  Yesterday,  she  sent  word  that  she  was  ill,  and  neither 
she  nor  Pepe  have  been  heard  from  to-day.  Since  Ramón 
is  with  you 

Gonzalo.  Oh,  yes!  Go  if  you  like.  However,  nothing 
can  be  the  matter,  or  we  should  have  heard  before  this. 

Laura.  We  withdraw,  as  you  see,  in  a  solid  phalanx.  I 
predict  a  speedy  recovery. 

Gonzalo.  Yes,  instantaneous.  Evidently  my  convales- 
cence is  not  to  proceed  by  half  measures. 

Laura.  I  hope  not,  only  beware  of  a  second  attack.  It 
might  prove  dangerous. 

Carmen.  Good  morning,  Gonzalo. 

Gonzalo.  Adiós,  Carmen;  adiós,  Luisita. 

Isabel.  Remember,  you  must  not  talk  too  much  about 
business  nor  anything  that  is  serious.    Whatever  you  do, 
do  not  allow  him  to  smoke.    I  shall  return  in  a  moment. 
Isabel,  Carmen,  Laura  and  Luisita  go  out, 

Ramón.  Do  you  feel  better  now.? 

Gonzalo.  I  am  sick,  tired,  bored  to  death.  What  shall 
I  say?    I  am  nervous. 

Ramón.  After  the  collapse.  Everybody  knows  how  that 
girl  has  enjoyed  herself  at  your  expense,  putting  you 
off  with  promises  in  exchange  for  substantial  realities.  A 
fitting  end  to  Don  Juan,  who  lacked  the  grace  to  retire  in 
time!  Fortunately,  her  departure  in  company  with  her 
obliging  husband  will  not  long  be  delayed. 

Gonzalo.  Very  well.  You  have  forced  his  resignation, 
you  have  left  nothing  undone  to  magnify  the  incident  to 
the  utmost.  I  tender  my  resignation.  I  shall  not  concern 
myself  further  with  the  company  nor  its  affairs,  under  any 
circumstances  whatsoever. 

Ramón.  So  you  say. 

Gonzalo.  Do  you  expect  me  to  submit  to  being  made 


288  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  m 

publicly  ridiculous  by  an  insignificant  whippersnapper  of  a 
clerk,  while  you  stand  by  and  laugh,  and  have  the  bad  taste 
to  applaud  him? 

Ramón.  If  your  young  protege  had  had  the  sense  to 
mind  his  own  business,  instead  of  meddling  among  his 
betters  with  his  impertinence 

Gonzalo.  Impertinence.'^  He  merely  insisted  that  they 
should  do  their  duty.  He  is  accustomed  to  the  discipline  of 
a  Parisian  office,  where  the  employees  are  trained  to  obey 
and  to  respect  their  superiors.  Here,  of  course,  with  our 
sidewalk  democracy,  one  man  is  as  good  as  another — we 
are  all  gentlemen,  hidalgos  who  work  as  a  favor  when  some 
one  pats  us  on  the  back,  or  bribes  us  by  a  show  of  familiar- 
ity between  superior  and  inferior.  That  is  our  conception  of 
business. 

Ramón.  You  say  that  because  it  suits  your  convenience. 
Nobody  is  more  affable  than  you  are,  nor  treats  people  with 
greater  consideration  in  the  true  Spanish  fashion,  nor  are 
you  less  respected  for  it.  That  yoimg  cub  fancied  he  had 
been  ordained  to  initiate  us  in  the  ridiculous  routine  of  the 
French  bureaucracy,  where  a  subordinate  no  sooner  finds 
himself  seated  behind  a  desk  or  at  an  office- window,  than  he 
imagines  that  he  belongs  to  a  special  aristocracy,  which  is 
superior  to  the  rest  of  mankind. 

Gonzalo.  If  anybody  was  dissatisfied,  why  didn't  they 
come  to  me?    This  is  a  conspiracy;  somebody  is  behind  it. 

Ramón.  I  suppose  I  am?    Is  that  it? 

Gonzalo.  And  you  are  not  the  only  one.  You  have  been 
influenced  by  your  wife. 

Ramón.  By  Carmen  ?    What  do  you  mean  ? 

Gonzalo.  No,  not  precisely  by  her  either — by  Isabel. 
They  are  always  together;  they  could  not  well  be  more 
intimate. 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  289 

Ramón.  You  talk  like  a  fool.  There  never  was  any  con- 
spiracy. Isabel  did  not  influence  my  wife,  although,  of  course, 
she  knew  all  about  it,  nor  did  my  wife  influence  me.  Why 
should  we  wish  to  make  you  the  laughing-stock  of  the 
office,  not  to  say  of  all  Madrid? 

Gonzalo.  You  have  been  admirably  successful,  however. 
And  you  have  transformed  my  house  into  a  dumb  hell, 
which  is  the  worst  kind  of  hell. 

Ramón.  Hell? 

Gonzalo.  Yes,  and  you  know  it.  Isabel  never  opens  her 
mouth,  but  her  air  of  martyred  resignation  is  a  perpetual 
accusation,  which  I  do  not  intend  to  tolerate.  My  nerves 
are  on  edge;  I  am  determined  to  have  done  with  it.  I 
prefer  to  have  her  talk;  let  her  get  angry  if  she  wants  to. 
Such  exaggerated  resignation  is  too  much  like  indiflFerence 
or  contempt — it  is  downright  selfishness.  Whatever  it  is,  it 
is  a  poor  indication  of  love. 

Ramón.  Either  you  misjudge  Isabel,  or  you  misjudge 
yourself,  when  you  imagine  that  she  could  have  accomplished 
by  protest  what  she  failed  to  accomplish  by  resignation. 
When  love  absents  itself  and  grows  cold,  how  detain  it  in 
its  flight  ?  By  threats,  perhaps,  by  force  ?  By  murder  ,and 
sudden  death?  When  the  bird  leaves  the  cage,  how  recall 
him  as  he  flies  ?  Either  you  must  shoot  him,  resolved  that  he 
will  be  yours  or  belong  to  nobody,  in  which  case  you  will 
surely  recover  him,  but  you  will  recover  him  dead,  or  other- 
wise, if  you  prefer  him  as  he  was,  you  have  no  recourse  but 
to  wait — to  wait  until  the  cage  shall  seem  sweeter  in  his  eyes 
than  the  liberty  which  he  has  enjoyed. 

Gonzalo.  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  a  poet.  It  is  a 
new  side  to  your  genius,  unsuspected  hitherto. 

Ramón.  We  never  learn  to  know  each  other  fully.  I  am 
not  a  poet,  but  I  understand  Isabel's  heart  better  than  you 


290  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  iii 

do.  There  was  a  time  when  I  felt  my  Carmen's  love  grow 
cold,  as  Isabel  does  yours.  Her  spirit  was  dreamy,  am- 
bitious, while  our  life  was  prosaic  indeed.  I  am  a  man  so 
blind  to  idealities  that  it  seems  to  me  a  crime  not  only  to 
dream,  but  to  sleep,  unless  the  provision  for  the  morrow  is 
assured.  My  one  thought  was  to  work — for  the  sake  of  my 
wife  and  my  children,  naturally;  but  work,  which  bound  me 
to  them  most  closely,  was,  as  it  appeared,  that  which  pushed 
them  farthest  away.  So  I  observed  at  first  a  certain  wistful- 
ness,  an  impatience  in  Carmen,  then  coldness  and  indiffer- 
ence, then. . .  .then. . .  .how  can  I  tell?  If  I  had  not  been  so 
sure  of  her  honor,  I  might  even  have  believed  that  her  heart 
was  no  longer  mine.  I  sought  to  impose  myself,  my  com- 
plaints became  violent  and  loud;  I  turned  to  threats,  but  the 
most  that  I  could  achieve  was  submission,  respect,  the  out- 
ward show  of  love — love  still  absented  itself  and  grew  cold. 
So  then,  I  waited;  I  waited,  working  on  as  before,  with  the 
same  purpose — my  wife,  my  children,  and  with  the  same 
love.  I  was  hers,  always  hers !  Then,  one  day,  as  I  sat  over 
my  books  and  accounts,  I  felt  two  arms  steal  about  my 
neck,  which  hugged  me  tight,  and  another  face  pressed  close 
to  mine,  looming  up  over  the  accounts,  and  two  tears  fell 
upon  the  page  and  blotted  the  figures  out,  and  a  voice  said 
to  me,  and  a  soul  quivered  in  that  voice:  "Ramón,  how 
good  you  are!  And  how  I  love  you!'*  It  was  love  which 
had  returned  again,  love  at  last  had  understood — who  knows 
after  how  many  wanderings?  For  the  poetry  of  our  lives 
to-day,  which  are  barren  of  swords  and  lances  and  princesses 
and  troubadours  and  Moors,  consists  in  simple  duty  done 
and  the  tasks  of  every  day,  in  prosaic  labor,  to  which  poetry 
and  glory  are  alike  denied — ^few  men,  indeed,  may  aspire  to 
these,  or  rather  we  all  may,  because  glory,  to  men  who  are 
engaged  in  noble  deeds,  is  love  which  comes  from  everywhere. 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  291 

from  afar  off,  but  to  those  of  us  who  toil  in  humble  spheres, 

to  us to  us love  is  our  glory,  the  glory  of  the  poor, 

of  the  outcast.    It  is  a  glory  which  lies  very  near  at  hand, 
and  for  that  reason  it  strikes  so  quickly  to  the  heart. 

Gonzalo.  But  did  you  ever  doubt  that  that  glory  would 
be  yours,  that  you  were  assured  of  Carmen's  love  and 
the  children's? 

Ramón.  I  feared  for  them;  but  I  never  doubted  for  my- 
self. So  I  waited — as  Isabel  is  waiting  now.  That  is  why  I 
told  you  that  you  knew  nothing  of  her  heart,  as  you  know 
nothing  of  mine. 

Gonzalo.    You  never  spoke  like  this  to  me  before.    How 
should  I  know?    You  are  right;  we  never  learn  to  know 
each  other  fully,  or  if  we  do,  it  is  too  late. 
A  Sebvant  enters. 

Servant.  Pardon,  sir.  [Offering  a  card]  A  gentleman  to 
see  you.  If  you  cannot  receive  him,  he  will  wait,  or  he 
will  come  back  when  you  are  ready,  sir.  He  must  see 
you. 

Gonzalo.  [Offering  the  card  to  Ramón]  "Adolphe  Ba- 
rona."    I  am  not  at  home. 

Servant.  He  knows  that  you  are  at  home,  sir. 

Gonzalo.  I  cannot  see  him. 

Ramón.  It  is  only  a  question  of  time,  if  he  is  determined. 
Better  face  the  situation  and  learn  what  he  wants — ^an  ex- 
planation, no  doubt,  sufficiently  annoying  and  unpleasant. 
Shall  I  receive  him? 

Gonzalo.  No,  but  you  might  remain.    If  you  do,  the  inter- 
view will  be  less  embarrassing  and  more  brief.    Show  him  in. 
The  Servant  retires.    Adolphe  enters  immediately. 

Adolphe.  Gentlemen! You  have  quite  recovered,  I 

trust  ? 

Gonzalo.  Thank  you,  in  part. 


292  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  iii 

Adolphe.  Don  Ramón 

Ramón.  Sir! 

Adolphe.  Your  wife  is  well,  I  trust  ? 

Gonzalo.  Thank  you,  very. 

Adolphe.  [To  Ramón]  I  trust  your  wife  is  well? 

Ramón.  Perfectly. 

Adolphe.  How  is  your  charming  daughter? 

Ramón.  Perfectly 

Adolphe.  [To  Gonzalo]  No  doubt  you  expected  a  call. 
I  hesitated  whether  to  write  or  to  come  myself,  but  Josefina 
advised  me  to  call.  Writing  is  more  delicate.  When  one 
goes  too  far,  it  is  easy  to  take  it  back  if  it  is  only  talk, 
but  when  it  is  written  down,  if  you  let  yourself  go,  there  you 
are.  Don't  you  think  so?  You  know  I  have  been  insulted; 
you  know  that  I  must  kill  some  one. 

Ramón.  Heavens,  man !    Kill  some  one  ? 

Adolphe.  Yes,  kill  some  one,  and  I  should  have  done  it 
before,  had  I  not  cooled  off  and  thought  it  over.  I  am  not 
the  only  one  who  has  been  insulted.  My  wife  has  been  in- 
sulted, France  has  been  insulted. 

Ramón.  Gracious !  The  question  is  assuming  international 
proportions. 

Adolphe.  Yes,  somebody  said,  speaking  of  me,  that  I 
was  a  typical  French  husband. 

Ramón.  Of  course,  you  ignored  it.  Literature  is  prob- 
ably responsible  for  the  prevalent  opinion  of  French  hus- 
bands. 

Adolphe.  Ah !  Suppose  I  had  not  cooled  off  and  thought 
it  over  ? 

Gonzalo.  Don't  you  exaggerate?  I  see  nothing  in  all 
this  except  ignorance  of  our  character  and  our  customs  upon 
your  part,  an  excessive  formalism,  if  you  will^-severity;  as 
for  those  who  insulted  you,  they  merely  displayed  ill-breed- 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  293 

ing  and  ¡11-temper.  Now,  when  you  attempt  to  magnify  the 
mcident 

Adolphe.  I  understand  it  rather  thoroughly;  I  have 
talked  it  over  with  my  wife.  If  we  had  been  willing  to  sub- 
mit to  humiliation,  of  course  this  never  would  have  hap- 
pened.   We  should  have  had  no  difBculty  whatever. 

Ramón.  What  do  you  mean? 

Adolphe.  An  influential  person  has  been  paying  court  to 
my  wife.    I  do  not  know  who  he  is,  I  do  not  care  to  know 

Ramón.  [To  Gonzalo]  There  you  are 

Adolphe.  I  cannot  continue  with  dignity  in  my  present 
position.  Nobody  comes  forward  to  indemnify  me  for  my 
loss  of  time,  for  the  expenses  of  removing  to  Madrid,  where  I 
had  understood  that  my  position  was  to  be  permanent.  As 
my  wife  says,  I  am  ruined.  I  expected  stable  employment, 
now  we  are  obliged — how  do  you  put  it  ? 

Ramón.  To  saddle  yourselves. 

Adolphe.  Exactly.  It  is  a  mistake.  We  came  prepared, 
but  we  have  been  defrauded.  We  find  oiu-selves  saddled  with 
an  establishment. 

Gonzalo.  If  you  have  suffered  loss,  or  been  inconvenienced 
in  any  way 


Ramón.  I  offered  him  the  necessary  relief,  but  he  said 
that  his  dignity  had  been  offended.  Was  that  what  you 
said? 

Adolphe.  Yes,  but  I  was  excited  at  the  time.  I  have 
cooled  off  and  thought  it  over.  Suppose  I  had  not  had  any 
dignity,  I  might  have  retained  my  position,  I  might  have 
been  promoted  and  have  made  a  great  deal  of  money,  like 
other  men  without  brains,  who  have  never  done  anything, 
and  nobody  can  explain  it  either,  except  their  wives;  yet 
they  are  the  ones  who  gossip  and  criticise  everybody. 

Ramón.  What  is  that?    What  are  you  talking  about? 


294  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  m 

Adolphe.  i  know  what  I  am  talking  about,  because  I 
have  heard  other  people  talking,  although  you  may  not 

Ramón.  I  certainly  have  not,  but  you  are  in  a  position 
to  inform  me.  You  are  not  such  a  coward  as  to  be  afraid 
to  mention  names. 

Adolphe.  I  am  not  such  a  coward  as  to  be  intimidated 
into  mentioning  them. 

Ramón.  Eh? 

Gonzalo.  [To  Adolphe]  As  this  is  my  house,  you  will 
kindly  address  your  remarks  to  me;  I  am  the  person  you  de- 
sired to  see. 

Ramón.  No,  leave  him  to  me 

Gonzalo.  Enough  of  this !  Obviously,  your  chief  concern 
is — what  shall  I  say.?* — the  practical  question;  at  least  you 
convey  that  impression.  As  for  these  expenses  you  speak  of, 
this  indemnization  to  which  you  consider  yourself  entitled, 
and  which  I  ought  to  provide — I  take  it  that  I  am  a  person 
who  is  thoroughly  competent  to  estimate  the  expenses  of  your 
establishment. 

Adolphe.  You  are,  as  I  take  it;  Josefina  always  con- 
sulted you  and  your  wife.  I  never  know  the  cost  of  any- 
thing. However,  we  shall  be  obliged — how  shall  I  say  it? — 
to  hold  an  auction,  to  ask  for  the  highest  bidder.  So  I  am 
giving  you  notice  before  posting  the  bills.  If  you  are  inter- 
ested, we  are  making  special  prices  to  our  friends. 

Ramón,  Thank  you  very  much. 

Gonzalo.  Good !  You  shall  be  reimbursed  in  full  in  the 
morning;  we  understand  each  other.  I  am  anxious  that  you 
should  carry  away  only  pleasant  memories  of  Madrid. 

Adolphe.  Yes,  indeed!  Poor  Josefina  is  desolated  at 
the  thought  of  quitting  Madrid.  Should  she  ever  meet  dis- 
aster, she  says  we  must  look  for  her  here.  So  if  to-morrow 
is  convenient 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  295 

Gonzalo.  To-morrow  then.    Without  fail. 

Adolphe.  I  trust  that  we  may  often  have  the  pleasure 

Gonzalo.  Assuredly. 

Adolphe.  I  trust  that  you  appreciate  my  delicacy  in  thiá 
affair. 

Gonzalo.  It  has  been  exquisite,  my  dear  Alghonse— 
pardon,  Adolphe.  ^ 

Adolphe.  Yes,    Adolphe,  if  you  please.    Alphonse  is  a         ^ 
term  applied  to  certain  subjects  in  Paris. . . .    ^-^^^-^^"^  ^^-^ 

y    Gonzalo.  Acquit  me  of  any  intention. 
'^v.  Adolphe.  I  hope  so.    Adios,  Don  Ramón. 

Ramón.  Señor! 

Adolphe.  Don't  call  me  that.  Why  so  formal?  I  have 
cooled  off  and  thought  it  over. 

Ramón.  I  thought  it  over  before  I  was  cold.  Does  that 
satisfy  you  ? 

Adolphe.  Entirely.  I  retire,  as  my  wife  says,  I  take  my 
leave.  Or,  as  you  put  it,  I  swallow  it  whole.  Good  luck, 
gentlemen.  [Goes  out, 

Ramón.  If  that  boy  were  not  his  father's  son 

Gonzalo.  What  makes  you  think  so? 

RamÓj-í.  He  would  never  leave  this  house  sound  and 
whole.  Who  says  that  he  is  a  fool  ?  Precious  angel !  Al- 
though this  was  not  his  idea;  it  shows  the  hand  of  that 
shameless  hussy,  his  wife. 

Gonzalo.  She  certainly  has  an  appealing  touch. 

Ramón.  Appealing?  Very.  But  there  was  one  thing 
that  he  said 

Gonzalo.  I  did  not  hear  him  say  anything. 

Ramón.  There  was  one  thing  that  he  said  which  you  did 
not  let  him  finish.  You  seemed  to  anticipate  his  demands,. 
as  if  you  were  afraid  that  he  might  talk  too  much  if  you 


296  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ni 

did  not,  but  as  soon  as  he  was  satisfied ....    I  am  not  with- 
out means,  however,  of  verifying  his  insinuations. 

Gonzalo.  I  heard  nothing  which  could  have  been  intended 
even  remotely  for  you. 

Ramón.  He  could  not  have  invented  it;  he  must  have 
been  told 

Gonzalo.  Come,  come!  If  we  are  to  continue  like  this, 
we  shall  all  of  us  go  mad.  This  is  nothing  more  than  mere 
vulgar  extortion,  a  case  of  ridiculous  chantage,  which  it 
would  be  even  more  ridiculous  to  take  seriously.  You  were 
right:  it  is  a  fitting  end  to  Don  Juan,  who  lacked  the  grace 
to  retire  in  time.  It  was  my  fault.  I  admit  it,  and  rest  in 
peace.  I  fail  to  see  how  the  matter  interests  you.  What 
are  you  thinking  about  .^  Is  it  possible  that  you  can  take 
it  seriously  ?    Come,  come,  man ! 

Ramón.  Let  me  alone,  I  tell  you !    Let  me  alone ! 

Gonzalo.  Ramón! 

Ramón.  If  it  should  be  true,  if  it  is But  no !    No ! 

Gonzalo.  Ramón !    Hush !    Isabel ! We  shall  see. 

Ramón.  Yes,  for  her  sake — ^let  us  wait ! 
Isabel  enters. 

Isabel.  Am  I  Isiie?  Are  you  feeling  better?  But  what 
is  the  matter .Í*    Why  are  you  looking  like  this? 

Gonzalo.  Nothing  is  the  matter. 

Isabel.  No,  you  have  been  talking  business.  You  have 
been  arguing,  and  you  are  both  angry. 

Gonzalo.  I  tell  you  that  we  have  not.  How  was  Maria 
Antonia  ?    How  about  Pepe  ?    Did  you  find  them  in  ? 

Isabel.  No,  they  were  out. 

Gonzalo.  Then But   you    do   not   seem    pleased. 

What  is  the  matter? 

Isabel.  Didn't  I  tell  you  that  they  were  both  out?    It 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  297 

is  a  sign  they  are  well.    I  was  surprised  to  find  you  so  ex- 
cited when  I  came  in;  you  have  been  quarrelling. 

Gonzalo.  How  silly!  A  mere  difference  of  opinion. 
Ramón  will  explain. 

Ramón.  We  were  discussing  the  company. 

Isabel.  Gracious!  But  are  you  ill?  You  look  so  pale. 
ITo  Ramón]  I  am  sure  you  are  not  the  one  who  began  it. 

Gonzalo.  It  was  all  my  fault.  I  must  sign  these  papers 
and  send  an  explanation  to  the  boy's  father.  They  are  re- 
turning to  Paris. 

Isabel.  Who  are  ? 

Gonzalo.  Who  do  you  think?  Why  must  you  force  me 
to  say  it  ?    Don't  you  know  ?    Aren't  you  glad  of  it  ? 

Isabel.  I? 

Gonzalo.  Will  you  never  say  what  you  think  ?  [Goes  out. 

Isabel.  I  am  helpless.  He  is  not  satisfied  to  torment 
me;  he  wants  to  see  me  suffer. 

Ramón.  Isabel,  will  you  forgive  me  if  I  revert  to  the  past 
and  reopen  sores  that  are  forgotten? 

Isabel.  You? 

Ramón.  I  know  that  you  will  not  tell  me  the  truth,  but 
no  matter.  You  are  the  only  one  who  can  restore  peace  to 
my  mind,  although  it  may  be  with  a  lie. 

Isabel.  But  what  is  it?  What  happened  between  you 
and  Gonzalo  while  I  was  away  ?  That  woman's  husband  was 
here.    But  why  ?    What  did  he  say  ? 

Ramón.  Who  cares  ?  Is  he  a  rogue  or  a  fool  ?  But  there 
was  one  thing  that  he  said,  which  either  he  invented,  or  which 
he  has  heard,  gossip,  perhaps,  for  its  own  sake,  which  amounts 
to  nothing,  but  which  had  never  occurred  to  me  before. 
There  are  moments  when  a  chance  word,  like  a  lightning 
flash,  illuminates  the  darkest,  most  hidden  comers  of  our 


/ 


298         /         AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  hi 

lives.  *  Why  did  my  boy  Enrique  give  up  Maria  Antonia? 
Why  was  it? 

Isabel.  That  is  indeed  a  sore  that  is  forgotten.  Don't 
you  know? 

Ramón.  Yes,  I  know  what  Enrique  told  me,  what  was 
said  by  our  friends.  Enrique  had  had  relations  with  a  poor 
girl,  Maria  Antonia  was  jealous  and  unwilling  to  forgive.  She 
believed  that  the  intimacy  had  not  been  broken  off 

Isabel.  Then  you  know  as  much  about  it  as  we  do. 

Ramón.  Only  it  never  occurred  to  me  till  now  that  this 
explanation  might  not  be  the  real  one,  that  it  was  merely  a 
pretext  of  Carmen's,  of  yours,  of  our  friends,  so  as  to  avoid 

I  never  dreamed  until  this  moment — well,  what  I  have 

just  heard.  I  am  not  a  man  of  great  ability,  my  talents  cannot 
have  been  of  much  assistance  to  Gonzalo,  yet  he  has  always 
kept  me  by  him,  in  the  positions  of  chief  importance.  Thanks 
to  him,  I  enjoy  a  fortune,  I  am  rich,  I  thought  I  was  happy. 
But  why?  Why  is  it  that  I  have  all  these  things?  My 
God,  why  is  it? 

Isabel.  You  have  worked  faithfully  and  hard,  you  are 
intelligent.  This  is  unworthy  of  you.  What  are  you  thinking 
about  ?  What  have  you  heard  ?  When  you  doubt,  you  not 
only  doubt  Gonzalo's  friendship,  you  doubt 

Ramón.  I  know  it — and  I  cannot,  no,  I  cannot.  It  would 
be  too  horrible.  Tell  me  that  I  am  wrong,  that  I  have  no 
right  to  think  it,  that  if  this  thing  could  be,  if  it  could  have 
been 

Isabel.  Carmen  would  not  be  my  most  in':imate  friend. 
Is  that  what  you  mean  ?  I  could  not  have  loved  her  as  I 
do,  as  a  sister.  And  you  see  it,  you  know  it.  Surely  I 
would  have  suspected  before  you,  if  your  suspicions  had 
been  justified.  If  they  are  true,  I  must  have  disguised  my 
feelings  out  of  policy,  or  under  the  threats  of  my  husband. 
Policy  and  pretense  have  their  limits.    I  am  not  a  saint;  the 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  299 

most  that  I  could  have  done  would  have  been  to  have  pre- 
sented an  outward  appearance  of  courtesy  in  public,  but 
genuine,  unreserved  friendship,  friendship  such  as  that  which 
unites  me  with  Carmen,  friendship  which  is  of  the  heart, 
because  I  am  convinced  of  her  loyalty,  as  you  must  be 
convinced  of  it. . . .  However  anxious  a  jealous  woman  may 
be  to  pretend,  she  is  incapable  of  pretending  to  such  an 
extent;  in  itself  that  should  be  enough  to  convince  you. 
I  could  not  pretend  with  Josefina.  Neither  policy  nor  cour- 
tesy availed  for  one  moment,  and  I  refused  to  receive  her  in 
my  house.  When  you  imagine  that  I  have  pretended  to 
love  Carmen  all  these  years. ...  I  appreciate  the  com- 
pliment, Ramón,  but  either  you  have  too  sublime  an  idea 
of  me,  or  else  you  know  very  little  about  women,  when  you 
persuade  yourself  that  however  discreet  a  woman  may  be, 
she  is  capable  of  admitting  another  woman  to  her  house,  as 
I  admit  Carmen,  if  a  suspicion,  even,  has  crossed  her  mind 

that  now  or  ever although  Gonzalo's  reputation  might 

make  any  suspicion  seem  plausible.  But  we  insult  Carmen 
when  we  deny  what  there  never  was  any  reason  to  believe. 
Neither  in  my  heart,  nor  in  hers,  nor  in  yours  is  there  warrant 
to  do  so.  Nonsense,  Ramón,  these  are  evil  thoughts.  I  do 
not  know  how  I  shall  punish  you,  unless  having  had  them, 
indeed,  is  not  the  worst  of  all  punishments. 
Manuel  enters. 

Manuel.  My  dear  Isabel Don  Ramón! 

Isabel.  This  is  an  unexpected  pleasure.  I  should  have  been 
obliged  to  send  for  you  had  you  remained  away  another  day. 

Ramón.  I  was  about  to  leave  as  you  came.  Isabel,  surely 
Gonzalo  has  signed  those  papers  by  this  time.  Good 
day. — Good  day 

Manuel.  Good  day  to  you. 

Isabel.  Is  it  all  over?  Not  a  shadow  of  an  evil  thought 
remains  ? 


/ 


300  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  m 

Ramón.  I  told  you  that  you  could  make  me  believe  what- 
ever you  wished,  whether  the  truth  or  a  lie.  You  are  so 
good,  so  very  good,  that  you  can  do  what  you  say  no  woman 
can  ever  do,  however  saintly  she  may  be !  [Goes  out. 

Isabel.  I  am  exhausted. 

Manuel.  Was  he  too  much  for  you  ?   What  is  the  trouble  ? 

Isabel.  No,  but  I  have   lied  so   sincerely,  so   honestly, 
/  that  it  really  seems  to  me  as  if  I  had  not  been  lying.    To  lie 
like  that  does  not  lie  upon  the  conscience;  it  is  absolved  by 
the  heart. 

Manuel.  You  lie  ? 

Isabel.  Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  I  have  been  im- 
patient to  see  you,  to-day  of  all  others. 

Manuel.  I  have  been  thinking  of  you  so  busily  that 
doubtless  I  have  appeared  forgetful. 

Isabel.  Have  you  forgotten  your  promise.^ 

Manuel.  Not  for  an  instant.  Vigilance  has  been  neces- 
sary of  late — to  the  limit. 

Isabel.  Of  late  ?    How  so  ?    What  do  you  know  ? 

Manuel.  Maria  Antonia  and  Pepe  live  in  a  state  of  open 
warfare. 

Isabel.  They  never  come  to  see  us,  in  spite  of  Gonzalo's 
illness.  I  called  at  their  house  to-day,  but  they  were  out; 
and  the  maid,  a  girl  whom  I  trust,  as  I  placed  her  with 
Maria  Antonia,  told  me  the  whole  story.  They  quarrel  in- 
cessantly; there  are  recriminations  at  all  hours.  To  continue 
like  this  is  impossible. 

Manuel.  It  is  positively  dangerous  for  Maria  Antonia. 
'     Isabel.  What  have  you  heard  ? 

Manuel.  I  have  heard  of  chance  encounters  in  the  Prado 
Gallery. 

Isabel.  Between  whom  ?    Maria  Antonia  and 

Manuel.  Oh,  they  are  purely  casual;  quite  by  chance. 
As  if  you  were  to  say  to  me,  casually:  Do  you  know,  I  am 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  301 

wholly  igaorant  of  the  Prado  Gallery?  And  I  were  to  reply: 
Is  it  poss  hie  ?  And  you :  I  intend  going  one  of  these  days.  So 
I  go  evevy  day  until,  naturally,  as  I  go  every  day  and  you 
one  of  these  days,  we  meet  casually,  and  that  is  the  way  that 
they  met,  casually. 

Isabel.  I  knew  it  all  the  time !  Did  your  friend  tell  you 
this? 

Manuel.  Can't  you  see  them? — a  dreamer  in  love  with 
an  innocent  woman!  They  view  the  paintings  together, 
their  artistic  susceptibilities  are  aroused Art  has  al- 
ways been  a  prime  conductor  of  love  currents. 

Isabel.  Flippancy  is  out  of  place.  Tell  me  seriously  what 
you  know,  everything  that  your  friend  has   confided   to 

you. 

Manuel.  I  can  tell  you  something  a  great  deal  more  serious. 
Maria  Antonia  has  committed  an  indiscretion.  She  has  been 
foolish 

Isabel.  Great  heaven ! 

Manuel.  She  has  written  a  letter. 

Isabel.  Which  you  have  read?  Did  that  man  trust  it 
to  you  ?  The  scoundrel !  He  is  no  better  than  the  rest—  an 
empty  boaster,  puffed  up  with  vanity !  Is  this  the  ideal  for 
whom  my  poor  child  has  forgotten  her  duties  as  a  wife  ?  Tell 
me  what  was  in  that  letter. 

Manuel.  I  merely  said  that  it  was  indiscreet.  She  dis- 
misses him,  she  deprives  him  of  all  hope.  Nevertheless,  she 
entreats,  and  to  entreat  is  to  confess  weakness;  to  confess 
weakness  is  to  fear  vanquishment. 

Isabel.  Does  this  fellow  hope 

Manuel.  He  permits  himself  a  slight  hope. 

Isabel.  I  must  see  Maria  Antonia  at  once,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  her  father  and  her  husband.  They  must  real- 
ize the  danger  clearly.  Maria  Antonia  must  be  saved  at 
any  cost.     She  shall  never  have  cause  to  hang  her  head 


302  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  iii 

in  shame  before  her  husband — she  must  always  be  right, 
always,  not  only  because  I  love  her  as  I  should  my  own 
daughter,  as  I  do  myself,  as  I  did  her  mother,  but  because 
my  pride  in  my  womanhood,  amid  all  the  inequalities  which 
we  suffer  at  the  hands  of  men,  admits  of  every  inequality 
and  will  endure  any  humiliation  save  this — that  they  should 
ever  have  the  right  to  say  to  one  of  us:  Who  are  you  to  ac- 
cuse me  ?  Ah !  Never  that !  Our  burdens  may  be  more 
onerous  but  we  are  stronger  than  you  to  bear  them.  You 
cannot  say  that  we  are  equal,  no,  but  we  can  say:  We 
are  not  equal,  it  is  true.  We  are  better  than  you  are. 
María  Antonia  and  Pepe  enter, 

María  Antonia.  Isabel !    Mother ! 

Isabel.  Maria  Antonia ! 

María  Antonia.  Ah!  At  last  I  can  cry !  At  last  I  can  tell 
you  everything — yes,  you,  only  you,  my  mother!  For  him 
I  have  only  scorn  and  contempt,  and  I  ignore  him  with 
silence. 

Pepe.  It  does  not  matter.  Remain  silent,  or  indulge  your 
contempt,  as  may  prove  convenient.    It  is  my  turn  to  speak, 

Isabel.  What  have  you  doné  ?    What  is  it  ? 

María  Antonia.  Who  cares  what  he  says  ?  My  only  re- 
gret is  that  he  is  not  right  when  he  says  it. 

Pepe.  You  hear  her,  Isabel.  Where  is  her  father  ?  I  have 
business  with  him.  [To  Manuel]  No,  don't  you  go;  appar- 
ently, you  are  one  of  the  family.  Besides,  you  are  sufficiently 
intimate  with  a  certain  person  to  render  it  desirable  that 
you  be  present.     Where  is  her  father.'* 

María  Antonia.  A  proper  person  for  you  to  consult. 
I  shall  talk  with  Isabel,  and  with  no  one  else.  Never  let 
me  see  you  again!  You  can  tell  my  father  whatever 
you  like. 

Pepe.  I  shall. 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  303 

Isabel.  Yes,  leave  us.  I  must  consult  with  Maria  An- 
tonia. Find  Gonzalo.  Tell  him  whatever  you  see  fit.  I 
shall  say  nothing  until  I  have  talked  with  her — ^for  I  know 
that  she  will  not  deceive  me. 

Pepe.  Is  he  in  the  study.'* 

Isabel.  Yes.  [Pepe  hurries  ovt]  Follow  him,  Manuel. 
You  know  the  truth — if  what  you  have  told  me  is  the  truth, 
and  nothing  else  can  be  the  truth. 

Manuel.  Whatever  Maria  Antonia  tells  you  will  be  the 
truth. 

Isabel.  She  will  tell  the  truth  to  me. 
Manuel  goes  out. 

Isabel.  Yes,  whatever  you  tell  me  will  be  the  truth  to 
me.    Is  Pepe  jealous  ? 

María  Antonlí.  You  heard  what  he  said. 

Isabel.  Does  he 

María  Antonia..  It  is  all  as  clear  to  him  as  day.  He  is 
returning  me  to  you;  now  he  is  the  one  who  is  doing  it,  so 
that  his  honor  shall  not  suffer.  Nothing  could  be  simpler. 
What  a  noble,  sensitive  thing  this  sense  of  honor  is !  Thanks 
to  it  I  have  accomplished  in  one  hour  what  tears  and  com- 
plaints, yes,  and  a  broken  heart,  could  never  do.  I  am  home 
again  to  forget,  to  find  release.  He  would  never  have  let  me 
come  upon  my  own  account,  and  you  would  not  have  received 
me — you  would  all  have  been  against  me.  But  now  that  it  is 
no  longer  I,  now  that  it  is  a  question  of  his  honor,  nobody 
opposes  it.  I  was  a  fool  not  to  realize  before  how  easy  it 
would  be  to  rid  myself  of  him,  and  to  regain  my  self-respect 
before  my  own  conscience,  to  bring  relief  to  my  heart ! 

Isabel.  Yes,  talk,  talk  as  you  do  now,  and,  I  will  listen 
undisturbed,  conscious  that  you  have  not  failed.  Grow  indig- 
nant, bum  with  holy  rage !    Do  not  be  cast  down  nor  de- 


304  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ni 

pressed — that  might  mean  humihation,  that  might  mean 
guilt.  But  there  was  none,  I  know.  Look  at  me,  in  the 
face,  full  in  the  eyes — now.    They  are  aS  clear  as  the  heart 

below;    not  a  tear.      It  was  not  your  fault? By  the 

memory  of  your  mother! 

María  Antonia.  No,  by  her  memory.  But  by  her  memo- 
ry, by  all  the  deviltries  and  all  the  faithlessness  of  men,  I  tell 
you  that  if  the  wish,  yes,  and  the  purpose,  to  be  guilty  are 
as  guilty  as  the  act  itself,  no  woman  ever  was  more  guilty. 
From  the  bottom  of  my  soul  I  swear  it !  I  wish  that  nothing 
had  held  me  back — not  virtue,  nor  shame,  nor  my  mother's 
name,  nor  example,  no,  and  not  your  love  nor  your  example, 
holy  as  were  hers;  nothing,  nothing!  You  know  what  I 
have  suffered;  your  heart  has  been  torn,  your  life  has  been 
wrecked;  and  you,  too,  must  have  felt  sometimes,  however 
saintly  you  may  be,  the  thirst  for  vengeance  for  wrongs,  for 
humiliations  undeserved — yet  you  know  that  when  a  woman 
is  born  honorable,  it  is  not  easy  for  her  to  cease  to  be  so. 
Gonzalo  enters. 

Gonzalo.  Is  what  Pepe  tells  me  true.''  Has  your  hus- 
band told  me  the  truth  ?  If  he  has,  there  is  no  room  for  you 
in  my  house  any  more  than  in  his.  If  you  dishonor  your 
husband  there,  you  dishonor  your  father  here. 

María  Antonia.  Ah ! 

Isabel.  Gonzalo! 

Gonzalo.  Do  not  defend  her !  Make  no  excuse !  Out  of 
my  house !    Never  let  me  see  you  again ! 

Isabel.  No,  you  shall  not  see  her.  Come  with  me,  and 
do  not  cry — do  not  cry,  my  daughter.  Resent  this  insult  if 
you  are  not  guilty,  as  you  have  resented  it  to  me,  angrily. 
For  you  have  told  me  the  truth?. . . . 

María  Antonia.  Yes,  mother. 

Gonzalo.  Out  of  my  house,  I  tell  you !    Get  out ! 


ACT  III  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  305 

Isabel.  Not  so  fast!     She  is  going later.     And  she 

will  not  go  alone. 

María  Antonia  and  Isabel  'pass  out,  but  'presently 
Isabel  returns, 

Gonzalo.  Not  alone,  do  you  say? 

Isabel.  Once  more  you  are  unjust,  selfish,  cruel,  because 
you  are — a  man !  Do  you  think  that  Maria  Antonia  has 
done  wrong?  You  do  believe  it,  don't  you?  And  you  are 
outraged.  I  tell  you  that  even  if  she  has,  I  understand  it,  I 
excuse  it,  and  I  shall  say  to  her:  You  did  right,  you  did 
perfectly  right !    Do  you  hear  ? 

Gonzalo.  An  easy  thing  for  you  to  say,  since  she  is  not 
your  daughter. 

Isabel.  Another  lie.  If  she  were,  all  the  more  reason 
why  I  should  say  to  her;  You  did  right,  you  did  perfectly 
right,  my  daughter ! 

Gonzalo.  Yes,  and  doubtless  you  have  said  it  already; 
you  have  excused  her  in  advance,  and  encouraged  her.  I 
suspected  it 

Isabel.  Why  not  add  that  I  set  her  the  example  ?  Be  as 
extreme  as  you  like.  This  is  one  of  those  decisive  days  in 
which  life  presents  us  with  the  balance  of  many  years.  It 
contains  everything — all  our  words,  all  our  deeds,  however 
insignificant;  life  forgets  nothing.  This  is  a  day  of  reckoning 
for  you,  and  it  was  time.  It  comes  to  us  when  we  least  ex- 
pect it,  almost  always  in  some  roundabout  way,  as  a  blessing, 
perhaps,  or  filling  us  with  alarm.  There  are  men  who  toil  all 
their  lives,  apparently  without  result,  until,  as  they  are  giving 
up  in  despair,  a  legacy  drops  from  heaven,  or  it  may  be  the 
lottery — something  which  seems  to  be  chance,  but  it  is  life 
which  pays.  There  are  others  who  commit  terrible  crimes, 
yet  live  on  prosperously  and  rich  during  many  years;  but  one 
day  sorrow  comes— the  death  of  a  loved  child,  or  it  may  be  a 


306  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  iii 

grinding  sickness,  or  disaster  unforeseen,  "when  no  riches  can 
avail.  Life  presents  its  bill.  It  takes  your  daughter,  the 
absorbing  passion  of  your  life,  the  paragon  of  womanly  sub- 
mission in  your  eyes,  of  all  the  virtues  which  belong  to 
honorable  wives;  and  you  are  indignant,  you  are  shocked; 
you  yearn  to  punish  your  daughter,  when  it  is  your  daughter 
who  is  punishing  you,  punishing  you  for  her  mother — for  her 
mother  and  for  me. 

Gonzalo.  Punishing  me?    But  why.^    Why  should  she? 

Isabel.  What  do  men  know  about  women.?  You  under- 
stand the  lies  of  the  women  who  deceive  you,  but  you  have 
no  conception  of  the  love  of  a  good  woman,  how  deeply  and 
truly  she  loves  you.  Reserve  is  always  more  instinctive  in 
women  than  love.  Our  love  is  silent  through  reserve, 
through  reserve  our  desires  are  silent,  too,  and  our  jealousy 
is  silent  oftentimes.  Yet  you  do  not,  you  will  not  understand 
that  an  honest  woman  cannot  struggle  without  violence  to 
her  very  being  when  your  love  turns  away  and  grows  cold. 
So  we  submit  in  silence  to  the  humiliation  and  the  pity  of 
the  women  who  attract  you  with  all  the  coquetry  and  cal- 
culated coyness  of  their  art,  which  you  would  despise  in  us, 
because  even  you  can  never  confound  their  boudoirs  with  our 
homes»  You  take  your  passions  to  them,  you  fly  to  them 
in  the  easy  irresponsibility  of  a  certain  sort  of  life;  you 
squander  upon  them  what  you  scrape  and  save  with  us,  and 
implore  of  them  lavish  kisses  which  you  would  disdain  in 
your  wife,  because  her  duty  assures  you  of  them — whenever 
your  desire  exacts,  we  obey — yes,  your  desire,  which  often 
enough  is  plainly  only  another  desire  which  you  have  not  been 
able  to  satisfy,  and  which  drives  you  to  us  with  all  the  ap- 
pearances of  love.  This  is  what  men  are,  and  yet  you  pre- 
sume to  sit  in  judgment  upon  us  at  the  suggestion  even  of  a 
fault,  without  mercy.     I  tell  you  from  my  heart  that  I  am 


ACT  in  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  307 

only  sorry  that  the  fault  was  not  real,  and  that  it  was  not 
mine,  if  it  might  have  caused  you  greater  pain  had  it  been  so. 
Gonzalo.  No,  Isabel.  You  are  unjust  if  you  have  ever 
thought,  however  great  my  offenses  against  you  may  have 
been,  that  they  deserved  the  punishment  of  not  believing  in 
you,  or  of  doubting  your  faith  for  one  moment.  You  can- 
not know  how  deeply  I  love  you.  I  have  been  cruel  and  self- 
ish, as  you  say,  I  have  tortured  your  heart,  but  you  cannot, 
you  must  not  doubt  my  love.  It  may  be  that  we  give  no 
one  so  much  pain  in  our  lives  as  we  do  our  mother;  it  may 
be  that  there  is  no  love  to  which  we  sacrifice  less,  so  sure  are 
we  of  its  possession  forever,  that  forever  it  will  pardon  and 
forgive.  With  merely  living  and  being  happy  it  seems  to  us 
that  our  mother's  love  is  repaid.  But  the  living  faith  which 
inspires  us,  in  appearance  makes  us  seem  less  devout,  all  the 
while  in  the  recesses  of  our  hearts  more  deeply  believing  in 
that  holy,  never-dying  love  of  which  we  are  assured.  What 
other  love  in  life  is  equal  to  this,  which  is  at  once  and  eter- 
nally the  faith  and  hope  of  the  heart  .^^  Confess  that  there 
has  never  been  a  moment  when  you  would  have  exchanged 
places  with  any  of  the  other  women  who  have  passed  through 
my  life;  confess  that  you  have  always  believed  that  when  I 
have  compared  you  with  them  all  together,  the  thought  of 
you  has  been  as  a  halo,  as  the  altar  before  the  image  of  the 
saint.  Can  you  imagine  how  proud  I  have  been  to  repeat 
over  and  over,  that  among  all  of  them,  she  alone  has  been  in 
my  heart,  she  alone  has  been  faithful,  she  always  has  been 
true,  she,  my  wife — as  my  mother  ?  And  do  you  pretend  that 
Maria  Antonia  has  acted  wisely  ?  No,  you  do  not  believe  it; 
you  do  not  think  it,  because  you  know  that  my  love  is  true, 
and  the  adoration  which  I  feel,  because  you  were  always  the 
one  who  waited,  the  one  who  forgave,  always,  like  a  mother, 
like  a  saint,  like  something  which  is  above  and  superior  to 


308  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  act  ni 

all  else  in  the  world,  like  heaven  in  our  lives.  No,  do  not 
attempt  to  tell  me  that  Maria  Antonia  has  acted  wisely,  do 
not  tell  me  that  you  wish  it  had  been  you.  If  I  had  had  for 
one  instant  ground  to  accuse  you ....  I  do  not  know .... 
I  do  not  know How  can  I  tell,  when  I  cannot  even  con- 
ceive that  such  a  thing  could  be? 

Isabel.  Gonzalo!  My  Gonzalo!  You  are  right — for- 
giving always,  waiting  always,  for  I  have  learned  to  wait 

And  now,  at  last,  I  feel  that  my  waiting  has  not  been  in 
vain! 

Cabmen  enters. 

Cabmen.  Isabel !    Isabel !. . . . 

Isabel.  Carmen! 

Cabmen.  Ramón  has  told  me.  He  came  to  me  in  tears, 
like  a  child,  and  asked  my  forgiveness  for  having  dared  even 
so  much  as  to  doubt.  Forgiveness  from  me,  imagine  it — 
who  can  never  forgive  myself !  He  told  me  that  you — and 
I  could  not  wait,  I  had  to  see  you,  to  fall  on  my  knees  be- 
fore you,  if  only  you  allow.  I  suffer  horribly.  I  should 
have  confessed,  but  then  the  mortification  would  no  longer 
have  been  mine  alone,  it  would  have  attached  to  you — 
and  you  are  free  from  blame. 

Isabel.  Yes,  I   am   free    from    blame I  am  very 

happy.  Gonzalo,  bring  your  daughter.  As  you  believe  in 
me,  there  was  no  fault  in  her. 

Gonzalo.  I  obey 

Manuel  enters. 

Manuel.  Isabel,  Pepe  has  listened  to  reason.  He  is  con- 
vinced that  he  is  wrong,  and  he  is  willing  to  forgive.  He 
only  fears  that  Maria  Antonia 

Isabel.  Yes,  not  as  yet 

Cabmen.    Not  as  yet?      Maria  Antonia  and  Pepe ? 


ACT  m  AUTUMNAL  ROSES  309 

Isabel.  It  is  not  easy  to  resign  oneself,  to  learn  to  wait. 
María  Antonia  enters^  followed  by  Pepe. 

Isabel.  Come,  Maria  Antonia.  Come,  both  my  chil- 
dren ....  Embrace  your  father.  You  will  forgive  your  hus- 
band, too,  some  day. 

María  Antonia.  No,  all  is  over  between  us.  I  shall  never 
forgive  him, 

Isabel.  Oh,  yes,  you  will !  And  you  will  be  as  happy  as 
I  am. 

María  Antonia.  As  you  are  ?    Are  you  happy  ? 

Isabel.  Very.  Light  and  thoughtless  love,  which  breathes 
only  illusion  and  desire,  sheds  all  its  flowers  in  one  brief 
burst  of  spring;  but  the  love  of  a  wife,  love  which  is  holy 
and  true,  love  which  has  learned  to  wait,  has  other,  later 
flowers.  Autumnal  Roses,  which  are  ours.  They  are  not  the 
flowers  of  love,  they  are  flowers  of  duty,  watered  patiently 
by  tears  of  resignation,  and  fragrant  of  the  soul,  with  the 
touch  of  eternity,  my  husband. 

Gonzalo.  My  wife  and  saint !    On  my  knees  I  adore  you. 

Isabel.  I  am  very  happy.    These  are  my  Autumnal  Roses. 

Curtain 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or 

on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


2CAu«-'5-«  'i 


JUL  3  11970  3  8 


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